


A Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno

by HarpiaHarpyja, sunshineflying



Series: A Song of Trash and Fire [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Actual LARP Nerd Ben Solo, Angst, BFFs Rey and Finn, Barista Ben, Ben is a Repeat Offending Shower Singer, Chewie is a Dog of Indeterminate Age, DJ (Star Wars) - Freeform, Dog Chewbacca, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Order Coffee Co., Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Han Solo - Freeform, Humor, Inappropriate Game of Thrones Puns, Kanata's Hip Philadelphia Bar, Lando Calrissian - Freeform, Lando Isn’t Like Regular Uncles He’s a Cool Uncle, Leia organa - Freeform, M/M, Mechanic Rey, Movie-based AU, Multi, Mutual Pining, No Dragons Were Harmed in the Making of This Porno, Not Crack We Swear, Our Lady of Copyright Infringement, Reylo - Freeform, Roommates Reylo, Slow Burn, Smut, Ten-Year Reunion Existential Crises, The Millennium Falcon is a Buick Skyhawk, Unca Wanwo is MVP, reylo au, smut is coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 106,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineflying/pseuds/sunshineflying
Summary: It's 2018, and as their ten-year high school reunion looms, Ben and Rey are roommates still trying to make something of themselves. But that's a tough thing to do when most of their time is spent struggling with unfulfilling jobs, a shared car on the verge of breakdown . . . and really, just getting their already overdue bills paid. Is just alittlebreak too much to ask for?  When things seem about to hit rock bottom, an opportunity arises to get them out of the red by some slightly unconventional means.With the help of rich Unca Wanwo, flagrant misuse of Ben's creative writing degree, and copious amounts of coffee, Ben and Rey put together the porno of the century, starring themselves and their friends . . . withinterestingresults.





	1. Umbrella is Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Do you like mid-aughts pop culture references? Simmering sexual tension? Ships galore? Maybe, just maybe, there is a place in our home for you. Hello and welcome to this, a Reylo 'Zack and Miri Make a Porno' AU—the fic that planted a seed in our hearts and minds and just. Wouldn't. Quit. 
> 
> It has been unexpectedly delightful to work on, and we hope you enjoy reading this as much as we've enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> And of course, thank you to Leoba and MrsViolet for their wonderful help in beta-ing this beast.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey, faced with the prospect of their ten year reunion, work together on their limited budget to get ready for the night. Black Friday looms, Rey needs a new outfit, and their utility bills may or may not be past due. But at least they have each other, right?

Against his better judgment, Ben stole a glance at the upper corner of the till monitor, where the time flashed in precise, mocking digital. 

4:58:17 P.M. 

Christ. He still had another hour and two minutes of this—a least. Given the precedent set over the last two years, it was likely to be slightly longer.

Rey had many admirable traits, but punctuality was unfortunately not one of them. Not even when he was depending on her to rescue him from his daily eight-to-twelve hours of service-industry torment. Most days, he wouldn’t have minded much. Some of his fellow baristas were . . . okay. Some of the customers were nearly tolerable (particularly the regulars who actually acknowledged the existence of the tip jar). On a slow day, he could even get some furtive writing in if he hid behind the counter at the right angle while his manager was away on lunch.

On this particular Wednesday there were several extenuating factors that made his shift at First Order Coffee Co. particularly torturous. For one thing, the day before any major holiday always seemed to bring out the worst in people. Ben already hated Thanksgiving; the fact that it turned nearly everyone who entered the shop for their last-minute-grocery-run coffee fix into tightly wound, entitled shits only soured him on the notion further. To say nothing of the fact that he would be expected to return tomorrow for a shift that would run well into the wee hours of Friday. 

Sleep? What was that? Ethical treatment of employees? Who cares? Didn’t he know that people needed to take to the streets at midnight to get the most lucrative deals on big screen televisions, new smartphone models, and whatever this year’s best-selling toy was? Didn’t he know that, for those people to spend as much money as possible in this, the nascent season of giving, they needed to be adequately caffeinated?

For fuck’s sake.

“Uh. Ben.”

Ben’s head jerked in surprise as he remembered yet another reason the day had been dragging. Lusica was supposed to be here too, but she’d called out with the flu—which left Ben with Dopheld Mitaka, all to himself. Though he had worked alongside Ben for barely more than a year, Mitaka was already on a managerial track. For some reason, he labored under the impression that working for a paltry wage at a pretentious coffee shop was a calling of the utmost seriousness, and he projected that unfortunate delusion onto everyone else on the staff. 

Ben rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Are you going to stock those cups, or just keep staring at the register, slowly crushing them?”

“What?” Ben repeated. 

He tore his focus from the screen (4:59:09 P.M.!) and, still refusing to grant Mitaka the courtesy of eye contact, looked down at the plastic-wrapped 16-ounce cups he was holding. He was, indeed, well on his way to crushing at least the lower third of the sleeve. Briefly, he considered squeezing them tighter still out of spite and hurling them across the room, just to see what Mitaka would do. It wasn’t like this place had a shortage of cups. Instead, he tossed them onto the counter with disdain, then squatted down to check how many cups actually needed to be stocked before he wasted time unwrapping the entire sleeve. Mitaka was shorter; he should have been the one doing this.

“Make sure you see that those aren’t all misshapen now,” Mitaka went on, lingering with his hands clasped behind his back as if he was in some kind of military parade. “If they are, the lids don’t fit right, then the drinks leak and customers complain, and then we need to comp them a refill.”

“You’re really losing sleep over the slim chance we’ll have to give someone a free drink because their lid didn’t fit right?” Ben asked, noisily pressing the spring loaded cup dispenser a few more times than necessary. To his dismay, it really did need a refilling. He reached up for the new sleeve and began replenishing the supply. “We throw out at least a full pot’s worth of coffee every closing shift. Not to mention all the coffee we dump throughout the day once it’s been sitting out too long.”

It was First Order bullshit protocol at its finest. He didn’t even know why he was indulging him. Sometimes Mitaka just went away if he ignored him and pretended to be caught up in whatever busy work he was supposed to be doing at the moment. Maybe Ben was just bored and hoping a conversation, no matter how dull, would help him pass this last hour more quickly.

“What are you so stressed out about anyway?” Mitaka asked, ignoring Ben’s perfectly valid point. Typical. 

Less typical: Mitaka removing the stick from his own ass and being casually conversational. 

For the sake of distraction, Ben answered candidly. “High school reunion tonight. Ten years.” 

That wasn’t strictly true, though. The reunion wasn’t a source of stress. It was mildly annoying . . . but then again, Ben was going voluntarily. He figured it might even prove somewhat amusing, in a trainwreck kind of way. And Rey was going, too. Of course. She seemed genuinely excited about it, which he’d been giving her shit for all week. They were still in touch with most of the people they would have wanted to see there anyway. As for him, his plan was to make an appearance, get trashed, go home, and laugh at how stupid the whole thing had been. Maybe also have a brief existential crisis about how fast the last ten years had passed, and how quickly the next ten would likely follow suit. Rey was welcome to join in that last part, but he wouldn't hold it against her if she didn't. 

Anyway, pretending the reunion was why Ben was so disgruntled tonight was better than the truth: that he simply couldn’t stand his job, especially at this time of year. One day, when he was published and famous, it would make good fodder for a story. If not a bit clichéd. Either way, that day felt impossibly far away.

“Ten years?” Mitaka’s eyebrows rose in a way that suggested he was disturbed by the idea of Ben having finished high school that long ago. Ben wasn’t sure how old Mitaka was, but he was now beginning to suspect it was younger than he’d realized. “Wow. That’s . . . huh. Are you looking forward to it?”

“I don’t know. Not really. It’ll be fine, probably. Copious booze. Shitty music. Everyone acting like they’re interested in what everyone else has been up to while actually just trying to one-up them.” He shrugged and rose, wrapping up what was left of the cups. “I think my roommate’s looking forward to it more than I am. I've been drafted to help her pick something to wear.”

Ben would see about that. It was near the bottom of his list of things he wanted to do when he got out of here. It wasn’t as if Rey was the only one who needed to get ready. He had no plans to show up to this thing reeking of dish soap, coffee grounds, and steamed milk.

“That the girl who picks you up usually?”

“Yes. Rey.” 

Something about the way Mitaka had asked about “the girl” didn’t sit well with Ben. He had a feeling about where this was going and didn’t like it, but wasn’t sure how to deflect. So much for enjoying the advent of the New and Conversational Dopheld Mitaka. 

“So you’ve both known each other since high school, or . . . ?”

“Yeah, since then.” Monosyllabic answers were best. Anything else might make Mitaka think Ben was inviting further inquiry. He grabbed a rag and began wiping down the counter.

Mitaka cast a glance over the seating area of the coffee shop, as if he didn’t trust that it was truly empty, before casting him a sly glance. “You guys ever fuck around?”

“What?” Ben halted his cleaning and threw an incredulous look at Mitaka. “No. What the fuck, man?”

“It’s not a weird question!” Mitaka insisted, slipping out from behind the counter to tidy up the supply of creamers and sugar. “You’ve known each other that long, you live together, and she’s . . .”

When he didn’t finish the sentence, Ben couldn’t help it. “She’s what?”

“Pretty hot?” 

“We’re friends. And roommates. That’s all. We’ve known each other since we were fourteen. We didn’t even like each other at first,” Ben explained. He didn’t feel like speculating on whether Rey was hot or fuckable or whatever Mitaka was getting at. “She pays half the rent. She's got a car. She . . . makes good breakfast.”

“Huh. Right. Breakfast.” Mitaka was straightening the stirrers and trying to fix the overfilled napkin dispenser. “So you wouldn’t think it’s weird if I asked her out sometime?”

Ben glowered. “You can try. She’s pretty picky, though. I don’t even know the last time she was seeing anyone.”

Honestly, the thought of Mitaka with Rey made him feel nauseated. He doubted Rey would be interested. She was pretty candid about wanting discretion whenever she brought guys back, but those instances were rare, and Mitaka didn’t seem like her type. Even if Ben had to admit he didn’t really know what her type was. Anyway, it wasn’t his business.

Thankfully, Mitaka didn’t press the point, and they passed the remainder of the hour busily enough. Customers hustled in and out, a wall of cold winter air and the tinkling of the bell on the door handle announcing their comings and goings, until finally their unfairly beautiful coworker Rumitar Shay arrived to take Ben’s place for the closing shift, prompt as ever. 

Rey, as expected, was less prompt, but by a quarter past six she and Ben were huddled in her ancient Buick with the heat turned up just enough to warm the interior past freezing. She had come directly from her job at the garage, where she worked for Ben’s father. A knit cap was pulled down over her ears and a lumpy scarf covered most of her face as she drove, but Ben could still see the telltale signs of mechanic’s work in the smears of grime on her cheekbone. Her nose was a little pink too, and she rubbed it vigorously with a mittened hand as the car rolled to a stop at an intersection.

“So, you channeling your inner fashion guru, then?” she asked, taking the spare moment to look over at him. The light turned green and she accelerated, the car engine grumbling as if it would rather fall to pieces and be laid to rest right there in the middle of a busy road. One day, Ben was sure, this hunk of junk was going to collapse around them. Or explode. “I’ve got some outfits from Rose, I just need to narrow them down.”

“Yeah, right. Absolutely.” Ben grimaced. “And why couldn’t Rose help you decide?”

Rey swatted at his shoulder and held out her hand, delaying her answer until he obligingly placed the chocolate muffin he’d bought her in her palm. One of the few advantages of working at First Order was the deeply discounted coffee and bakery items—though it wasn’t lost on Ben that he was just looping his paychecks back into the business. Sickening. He chugged some lukewarm coffee as Rey spoke through a full mouth.

“Rose is out of town. Visiting her sister, I think. For Thanksgiving?” she said, crumbs flying. Ben had known her long enough that he could discern her food-jumbled words with relative ease, though he suspected it would have been difficult for anyone else. “She dropped them off at Solo’s this afternoon before she left.”

She waved the muffin in the general direction of the back seat, and Ben craned his neck to look. Sure enough, the entire seat was strewn with a mismatched collection of clothing and shoes. God. And they were supposed to make it to the school by eight o’clock?

When he groaned, Rey mimicked the sound. “Oh, please. You know I’d help you with your weird cosplay stuff if you . . . I dunno. Needed to know what tabard looks best with your tights.”

“Okay, first of all, I have never worn tights in my life,” Ben protested, almost choking on his coffee. “Second, it’s a tunic, not a tabard. And third, it’s live-action roleplay, not cosplay. It’s much more . . . complex.”

Rey cackled. “Right, right. Sorry, my mistake. You do know Halloween was almost a month ago, right?”

“Was it? Holy shit, I’ve been living a lie. Thank you for opening my eyes to my transgressions. You’ve saved me.”

She pelted the balled up muffin wrapper at him, and it bounced off the side of his face to disappear into the darkness of the already cluttered floor. “You could at least consider putting some of the money you spend on all that stuff toward, you know . . . the bills.”

“I do,” he insisted. He _did._

“Last time we barely made the electric payment.”

He was silent a moment, considering. “I needed to put down a deposit to reserve the park for next month’s campaign. This one is really important. The Knights of Ren _need_ to put down this puny rebellion. I’m their leader. I can’t let them down. And anyway, you almost came up short too, remember?”

“Jesus Christ, Ben. How did I spend half of high school thinking you were too cool for me?”

“You were in robotics club. I _was_ too cool for you.”

“Well, since you’re such an authority on being cool,” she teased. “You can help me pick what to wear.”

“Fine,” he conceded. It wasn’t as if this had ever actually been up for debate. “But I’m going to be brutally honest. And please make it quick, I need to shower. I smell like . . . ugh. Caramel syrup?”

“ _Thank_ you.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I just want to make sure I look my best. It’s been ten years. Don’t pretend you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“I bet you would if Bazine Netal was going to be there.” Rey made a little humming sound and fiddled with one of the vents. “You think she will be? Supposedly she's off modeling in Europe or something, but I only heard that through the grapevine. Might be wrong. You could get . . . lucky.”

Ben scoffed and inclined his chin, looking out the window as they turned onto their street. “Ahh, I see it now.”

“You see what?” Rey pulled her scarf back up over her mouth. 

“You care because you’re hoping to leave with someone. Hmm?” He stretched his legs to the extent that the passenger’s seat allowed, which in his case was not very much. “Let’s see. Could it be, one of the Teedo brothers?”

“No Ben, I don’t want to take one of the Teedo brothers home.”

“ _Both_ Teedo brothers? You minx.”

“Ah, you see right through me. The end of my dry spell rests on your shoulders.” Rey laughed and pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t fail me, Ben Solo. You’re my only hope.”

Despite himself, Ben smiled darkly. “We’ll see.”

\+ + +

The selection of Rey’s wardrobe for the evening was not quite the ordeal Ben expected it to be. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he warned he would be very candid about the options, and together he and Rey were able to eliminate most of the contenders before she’d even tried them on. While he waited for her to change between the remainder and present them to him for judgment, Ben sorted through the stack of bills that had accumulated on the coffee table over the last month. At some point they’d started keeping the paid and unpaid bills in different boxes, but it seemed that Rey must have forgotten about the system. _All_ of the bills but the rent were in the ‘unpaid’ box. 

However, by the time she was dubiously awaiting his opinion on the final dress, he’d realized it wasn’t a mistake. They simply hadn’t paid most of their bills yet. He blanched a little and looked up at her.

“This is way too short,” she said, tugging at the skirt of a form-fitting black dress. It was nice. She looked beautiful in it. But he could see what she meant about the length. As he recalled, Rose was significantly shorter than Rey. And he’d rarely, if ever, seen Rey wear anything like this for as long as he’d known her. He knew he was staring, but he sort of had to if he was going to determine whether it was a winner. She turned a little and wiggled experimentally. “If I need to bend over for any reason everyone’s going to get a full view of my ass.”

“Not the impression you were hoping to make?” The corner of Ben’s mouth twitched up a fraction. “The Teedos would probably be into it. They always seemed like the up-skirt photo types.”

Her nose wrinkled, but she was smiling a little. “Gross, you.” She turned on her heel to march back to her room, her voice echoing down the hall as she shouted back to him. “I’d probably have to wear fancy underwear or something with this thing, and I don’t think I’ve bought anything like that since college. I’m just going to put on my nicer jeans and that blouse we decided looked good and call it done.”

He considered griping about how the last twenty minutes had been a waste of time if she was just going to wear her own jeans after all—and telling her she actually looked really good in that dress. He had promised to be honest. But her mind was made up, maybe because he’d teased her about the Teedos again (even if she _had_ been the one to start that earlier by bringing up Bazine), and he was still in his work uniform. 

And he was very alarmed by his realization about the status of their bills. That was really going to bother him the rest of the night. At least until he had a few drinks. They’d have to hash it out . . . some time. Tomorrow was a holiday, and he planned to be hungover until at least noon. Friday he would be essentially non-functioning after work. Saturday, then. Good.

Ben stalked off to the bathroom, where he got the shower running and glanced in the mirror, wondering whether he would have time to shave. Probably not. Maybe it was for the best. He’d been sort of just letting his facial hair do its own thing, and a reunion didn’t seem like the sort of occasion that demanded a clean shave. The room was already getting steamy, so he set his phone up on the sink basin to play some music, tossed his clothing in the corner, and hopped under the stream of water. 

Rey hated when he blasted music in general, but particularly when he was showering. For the most part he respected the fact that it bothered her and refrained if she was in the apartment, but he’d just done her a favor. She could deal with it. He needed to clear his mind and forget the rest of the world existed. Besides, how better to set the mood for tonight’s auspicious event than by playing the hits of their high school years? She would thank him later for easing her into the onslaught of subpar pop that no doubt awaited them in the name of nostalgia.

He was slathering some conditioner into his hair and really getting into belting out “Umbrella” when Rey pounded on the bathroom door.

“Ben!” She must have been shouting quite loudly, because he could hear her clearly over the running water, his music, and his own singing.

“Sorry, I’m no longer offering fashion advice!” he yelled back. “Try me again next week!”

“Can you lower that?” She banged again. “I swear to God, you better not be jerking off in there!”

“I’m considering it!”

“Well . . . don’t! We need to go soon! Stop that noise and finish up!”

He was about to launch into a retort about how he’d at least pick a better song to do it to when the pipes made an abrupt and ominous gurgling sound. With some trepidation, Ben paused in massaging his scalp and looked behind him. The steady stream guttered, belched forth again in a few final, violent gushes of water, and then ceased altogether. The only sign that the shower had been running at all was a rhythmic tapping of leftover water droplets against the linoleum. He stared, frowned, and grabbed the shower head, giving it an angry shake as if that might get the water going again.

“Wow. I didn’t mean you had to stop immediately,” came Rey’s voice, clearer now. It sounded like she’d poked her head into the room. Which, given that the lock on the door was broken, was entirely possible.

“Fuck!” Ben ignored her and roughly turned the handle that controlled the water temperature. This method proved as ineffective as batting at the shower head and beating his fist against the tiles. “Did we—? The goddamn water’s turned off! They turned it off!”

“Ohh.” Yeah, she was definitely in the bathroom with him. Standing basically right outside the shower, from the sound of it. “Shit.”

“‘Oh shit’ is right,” he agreed, abandoning his attempts to force the pipes to provide water by brute strength alone. He drew the curtain aside a little and looked out. As he’d suspected, Rey was by the sink, fiddling with his phone in an attempt to turn the music down. “Hey, help me out here.”

“What?” she asked, pocketing his phone. Her eyebrows rose as her gaze wandered down to where he supposed she must have thought his crotch hid behind the curtain. “No! Do it yourself!”

“Do what mysel—oh. No, I’m not—what the hell, Rey? Why would I—?” He shook his head. “I meant my hair. I’ve got . . . conditioner up there. It needs to be rinsed out.”

Her alarm allayed, Rey nodded and looked around, grinning a little. “Oh. Well, I don’t know what you expect me to use to—ah hah.” She looked thrilled by whatever flash of brilliance had just struck her. “Toilet!”

“On second thought, maybe I’ll wear a hat.”

“No, not from the bowl.” She shook her head as she lifted the lid off the toilet tank. “Try having a little common sense some time. Here, put this on and come lean over the sink.” She held a towel out to him. “You’re too tall for me to reach if you’re just standing there.”

“Right,” he grumbled, not pleased at all with this turn of events. 

But there was little other recourse, and they were already running behind. He threw the towel around his waist and stepped out to join Rey in front of the sink, where he leaned, dripping and annoyed but obedient, as she filled a cup with water from the tank, poured it over his head, then repeated the process a few more times. He couldn’t see her because of the angle, but he could hear her giggling to herself.

“It’s not funny.”

“It is a little. Though I guess it won’t be later when I can’t shower. Or wash my face, or . . .” She growled a little. “This really sucks. I thought we had a few more days ‘til we had to pay it.” 

She pressed her palm to the base of his skull and pushed it forward, drawing her fingers firmly through his hair and squeezing the ends to make sure the water was actually getting everything out. 

“Yeah, me too.” He shifted a little, uncomfortably aware of how pleasant it felt to have her hand in his hair like that. “Almost done?”

“Almost done,” she confirmed. She poured out a final cupful of water and briskly rubbed the back of his head. “What is this? Coconut or something? No wonder you have prettier hair than I do. Done, by the way.”

“Hah.” He straightened up and checked his hair in the mirror. It looked like she’d gotten the job done all right. He would just do his best to forget the water’s origins. “Nice job. Thanks.”

“Sure. I’ll go get the car warmed up.” She slipped his phone back onto the sink basin and saw herself out. “Cross your fingers the power’s still on when we get back.”

He wished he could find that funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Song of Trash and Fire' will be updated weekly on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1) to ~set the mood~.
>
>> **Chapter 1 // Umbrella is Coming**  
>  Panic - The Smiths  
> Back in Black - AC/DC  
> Everybody’s Lonely - Jukebox the Ghost  
> Umbrella - Rihanna  
> Screwed - Janelle Monae  
> 


	2. Trashfire is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ten year reunion has arrived. Rey and Ben attend to see what everyone has been up to since graduation - and also to drink. That's the more _likely_ reason, all things considered. They run into their high school friends and together, the six of them hash out a plan to help Ben and Rey sort out their finances and get back on the right track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Dot and Mina for their tireless work in beta'ing this fic. We couldn't do this without you.

The moment Rey and Ben stepped into the school, music thrummed around them. It was some Coldplay song that he hated then and still hated now, and it filled his ears and irritated him instantly. Blocking the hallway was a table full of name tags—stupid stickers that they wouldn’t need because inevitably people would flock to the people they knew. Rey checked in with a smile on her face, and Ben begrudgingly followed.

“Why are you so happy?” he asked as they walked into the gym. “High school sucked.”

The decorations were flimsy and cheap—just streamers and balloons and a second-rate DJ up on stage playing songs from their younger years—and it was the cheesiest thing he had ever seen. They’d hung up oversized photos from the senior yearbook, including an embarrassing one of Ben sitting with the drama club, only there because he’d written that year’s one-act play.

Rey shrugged and followed him towards the bar. “This is kind of cool,” she smiled, looking around, sizing up the crowd. “Besides, you and I have aged pretty well, so far.”

“ _ You  _ have, maybe,” he muttered. Compared to her, he’d grown ancient. Rey, aside from growing into her ass, hips, and chest, hadn’t aged one bit.

“The Teedo brothers aren’t here yet,” he grumbled, not even bothering to follow her gaze as she looked around the gym. He knew what she was looking for.

She landed a decidedly rough smack to his ribs for that one.

“Two beers,” Ben said to the bartender. Rey was still looking at the crowd, so he nudged her and asked, “You want anything?”

“Beer is fine."

“Three beers,” he amended. The bartender obliged without question.

Rey whistled  as her eyes settled on a particular knot of people . “I forgot how hot Bazine was, even in high school,” she said. She took the beer he had ordered for her and took a long sip. It was cheap and a little watered down, but they didn’t expect anything less. If fit the theme for the night.

“She was alright.” Ben rolled his eyes.  He swallowed the last dregs of beer and set his empty bottle on the table with a loud thud.  Really, people had expected him to date Bazine because they’d run in the same circles. She’d been gorgeous and popular, and he had been a generally well-liked guy. It had just been assumed that they’d be together, even if only for a little while.

“Rey!”

She turned right away, beaming. She'd know that voice anywhere. “Finn!”

“Careful,” Ben warned under his breath as Finn approached, Poe hot on his heels. “Don’t forget he wants to sleep with you.”

“He  _ doesn’t _ ,” Rey hissed in response.

Finn nearly sprinted the rest of the distance before he wrapped her up in a big embrace. His arms held her waist tight, and the hug lingered in a way that made Ben really want to say  _I told you so_.

“Hey, long time no see,” Poe quipped. They’d seen each other two days ago. Rey laughed, but Ben only rolled his eyes. “I see you brought the grump,” he said, pointing to Ben. He held a beer in the same hand and it sloshed around a bit. “Your friends here yet?”

“I haven’t seen them, no,” Ben shook his head. He gazed around the gym though, curious to see if he could find them. “Why?” he asked. He could humor Poe for a moment.

“Ah, Finn’s been dying to find Phasma. Wants to show off something he learned at the gym,” Poe explained.

Rey had extracted herself from Finn’s embrace just moments before, so Finn overheard Poe and Ben’s conversation. “It’s not something I  _ learned _ ,” he clarified. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure my biceps will be bigger than hers again. And I need to show off.”

“Why does it matter?” Ben asked, confusion knit on his brow.

Rey giggled. “He likes the competition,” Rey explained. She edged in closer to Ben, close enough that he could smell the perfume she’d spritzed on before they left.  The same perfume she’d been wearing for years, but only because that stuff took forever to get rid of and she couldn’t afford a new scent.  “I’ve always wondered if he had a crush on her, though.”

“I didn’t!” Finn protested gruffly.

“You’re kidding, right?” Ben asked. She  _ had _  to know Finn only had eyes for her—a nd maybe Dameron after enough drinks.

“What’s this I hear about crushes? That is  _ so _  ten years ago.”

Standing behind them, taller than Ben and nearly as broad, stood Phasma. Rey was positive she had never encountered another woman who so perfectly fit the description “Amazonian.” Phasma had clearly kept up the fitness regimen she had been so well-known, and sometimes feared, for when they’d all been in school together. Magnetic and commanding in a dress made of some chromatic silver material that flattered her chiseled musculature, it seemed she hadn’t lost her flair for the dramatic either. At her side was Hux. He too was commanding, in his own way, Rey supposed. But as ever, the effect seemed more artificial—built up by his obviously expensive yet austere gunmetal suit, the oxblood loafers he’d paired with it, and the large, shiny wristwatch that flashed as he lifted his drink in greeting. They both looked so . . .  _ good. _

Phasma peered rather smugly at the group she’d found.

“Finn had a crush on you in high school,” Ben said plainly, taking much pleasure at Finn’s reaction of sputtering and half-formed objections.

“Ah, that explains everything.” Hux smirked.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Phasma replied smoothly. She eyed Finn up and said, “Why else would you have been so obsessed with me?”

“I was supposed to be quarterback!” Finn protested. “You took my spot on the team! It wasn’t a crush!”

Phasma chuckled, a sound brighter and sweeter than Rey had expected. Truth be told, she didn’t spend much time with Phasma. They weren’t  _ friends _ , but they weren’t  _ enemies _ . Rey wouldn’t mind changing that, though.

“You felt threatened because a  _ girl _  made it on the football team and took your spot,” Phasma said, cocking her eyebrow at Finn. “I don’t see the big deal. In the end. We were both voted Best Athlete in the yearbook.”

Ben rolled his eyes and interrupted, “Alright, alright, we get it. You both think you’ve got big balls. Who cares? High school was ten years ago and all that really matters is what you’ve done since then.”

“Ben, good to see you,” Phasma said, her expression unchanged. “Bitter as always, I see.”

“As I predicted, that creative writing degree didn’t get you far, did it?” Hux sounded darkly pleased.

Ben glowered. “Be nice,” Rey intervened. She rested her hand gently on the back of Ben’s arm as she led the group to a table. “Ben works hard. We all do.”

“Some harder than others,” Phasma said, glancing at Hux.

Hux had taken over operations in his father’s business, some subsidiary company of the Empire Group, one of the most powerful media conglomerates in the central United States. He barely had to do anything himself, given that most tasks were assigned to his subordinates. Hux lived a life of luxury, as he had his entire childhood, and was the only one of them who could actually say he was debt free. Even Phasma’s athletic scholarship had only covered her undergraduate degree, and she’d acquired a master’s degree on top of that—though in what, nobody was sure.

But hey, that was a far cry from Rey and Ben, who had student loans in addition to their mounting bills, which . . . they hadn’t yet talked about, but really needed to, and soon. There was a high probability they’d return to their apartment to discover even more utilities had been shut off, and Rey wasn’t looking forward to having no heat at this time of year.

As everyone took seats around an old cafeteria table, she tried to get everyone’s attention. “The funniest thing happened earlier!” She nudged Ben’s side. “Tell them what happened in the shower!”

“I don’t need any stories about Solo jerking it in the shower,” Poe said, squishing his eyes shut and waving a hand, trying to block the mental images.

“No,” he said flatly.

“It’s funny!” Rey insisted. “Alright, I’ll tell it then. So. He’s in the shower, blasting his music, his fancy conditioner in his hair. Right?” She started giggling before she even finished the story. “And then in the middle, the water just  _ shuts off _ . He’s got soap stuck in his hair and can’t get it out!” Rey doubled over with laughter as Ben sat, watching her through narrowed eyes. “We had to rinse it out over the sink with water from the back of the toilet.”

Finn guffawed, and Poe chuckled, but Hux looked at them with slight disgust. He clearly did the best out of all of them, not a hair on his head out of place. “You’re broke?”

“We’re fine,” said Ben.

Poe, who was nursing his beer in silence, tilted his head to the side and asked,  “Can’t you ask his parents for money?” Poe gestured to Ben as he spoke to Rey. “You work for his dad, right?”

“I can’t do that,” Rey shook her head. “Han’s already paying me more than he really can. Besides, I don’t want to worry him.  Or Leia. ”

Phasma looked devious as she said, “Rey could always do a cam show.”

Every male at the table except Hux uttered a resounding  _ no _ , to which Rey laughed and said, “I’d have to buy toys for that, wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t have any?” Phasma asked.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Finn interrupted, suddenly looking a bit green in the face. “I don’t need to know that much about  _ either of you _ , thank you very much.”

Hux sipped his drink, something brown and sweet-smelling—brandy probably, or whiskey. He liked to give off the air of being more dignified than the rest. “She’s onto something, though,” Hux said. He glanced between Rey and Ben before adding, “I wouldn’t watch it, but there  _ is _  money in porn. You could probably pay off whatever bills you have with a sex tape or two.”

“We’re not dating,” Ben corrected.

Rey lingered over her beer, almost like she was seriously considering the possibility. “You don’t have to be dating,” Poe added. Finn looked incredulously at Poe, shocked that he could somehow find a way to agree with  _ Hux _ .

“Yeah,” Phasma intoned. “There is such thing as  _ casual sex _ , Finn.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rey glanced to Ben. Ben was quietly seething in his seat, shocked that anyone would even suggest that he film himself having sex for money. “I can’t say I’d ever want to see you naked,” Hux continued.. “But I’m sure plenty of women would. Besides, the real draw would be Rey, would it not?”

“Oh, for sure.” Poe nodded. “Rey’s gorgeous.” He looked to Rey and said, “I’m sort of surprised you didn’t dress up a little more, show off your curves now that you have them.”

Ben was now very glad he didn’t push Rey to wear that black dress. “She grew into her tits,” Phasma said, eyeing Rey’s chest brazenly. Rey sat up a little taller, glowing under the compliments. “It could work.”

“You’d want to go full-out, though,” Poe added. “Have a set.  A script. A cast. ”

“Like multiple people?” Rey wondered. Her cheeks had turned pink, both from the beer and the conversation. “Costumes? All of that?”

The look on Hux’s face was spectacular—prideful, bemused, a little sinister—as he said, “Yes, all of it. Ben could write the script, being the  _ serious writer _  that he is. He’s probably got the costumes too from all that . . . game stuff he does.”

“It’s called LARP,” Rey interjected. She smiled at Ben, who looked at her with a dry, bored expression. “What?” she asked, a little surprised by his disinterest. “I’m defending you!” She then added quietly, “Besides, I think they’re on to something.”

Finn finally found his voice by this point in the conversation, choosing to chime in only to say, “Rey shouldn’t hook up with strangers. Not for money. Or a movie.”

“She doesn’t have to hook up with strangers,” Poe said as he nudged Finn’s side. “She could hook up with us.” He looked over at Rey. “I’d be in your movie.”

Re’s bottle was beginning to feel light. Ben had already finished both of his, and Hux, knowing the best way to prevent Ben’s anger from peeking out, slid his drink over to him. Ben finished it in one big gulp.

“It’s not the worst idea,” Rey said to him. “It’d be the least painful way to catch up on bills.”

“We could all help you with your movie,” Phasma offered. “Then I can prove once and for all that I’m more of a man than Finn will ever be.”

Finn sat up, indignant. “What!?” he shrieked.

“Do it,” Phasma said, clearly pleased to get a rise out of Finn. “Be in the porno with us.”

Rey looked to Finn, not wanting to pressure him, but wondering just what would happen if this unlikely group of six worked together to create a  _ porno, _  of all things.

“I suppose I could help as well,” Hux said offhandedly. “You’ll have to find other means to finance it, though. There’s not enough profit in it for me to find it a worthwhile investment.”

“That’s alright,” Poe said. “Ben’s got a rich uncle.”

Ben perked up for the first time since the conversation had turned to amateur porn. “I am  _ not _  telling Lando we can’t pay our bills.”

Rey patted his arm and looked at the group earnestly. “Alright, alright, we’ll think about it,” she said, diffusing the situation and noticing Ben’s discomfort. She rested her head against his shoulder for a minute, knowing full well that her touch would likely calm him down. “In the meantime, let’s get some more drinks.”

“Go get us some shots,” Phasma said to Hux.

To everyone’s surprise, he obliged without hesitation. As Hux walked towards the bar, Poe said, “I would pay a hell of a lot to watch this porno if he submitted to her in  _ other ways _ , you get what I mean?”

Finn pretended to gag, but Phasma just smirked. “What makes you think he hasn’t already?” she asked.

Poe’s eyes widened and he whistled, impressed. “Yeah, this porno is happening,” he said. “With or without Solo, this thing is going to happen.”

“You know,” Ben said.  Rey glanced at him, curious how he might respond . “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just wanted to be in a porno.”

Poe laughed. “I guess the secret’s out.”

“It’s never crossed your mind?” Rey asked Ben in surprise.

“It’s crossed  _ yours _ ?” Ben countered.

Rey shrugged noncommittally. “I mean, sure,” she confessed. Her cheeks were pink but she was open, honest. She was having fun, too. “It crosses everyone’s mind once in a while, doesn’t it? It’d be fun, knowing people are watching that sort of thing. It’s intimate.  _ Exciting _ .”

As soon as Hux returned with shots of tequila, Ben knew he was fucked.

+        +        +

Ben woke up to the sound of music, grating on his nerves and sending the throbbing in his head into overdrive. He grumbled as he rolled out of bed and combed a hand through his knotted, messy hair. Last night had been . . . a night.

Vague recollections came back to him as he trudged down the hallway towards the kitchen. Rey danced to the music as it played, some cute little diddy on the radio, which meant he instantly despised it. Singers these days just didn’t have the lyrical genius that his favorite bands did. She looked so happy, a smile on her face, a sweater-dress she likely found from a thrift store where it’d been hanging since the seventies swirling around her knees as she cooked breakfast.

It wasn’t much of a breakfast; just bacon they’d found on clearance at the grocery store (sketchy) and some scrambled eggs. “Good morning!”

Ben glared at her, but Rey didn’t let it kill her mood. She slid him a cup of coffee (reheated from yesterday since they didn’t have fresh water—but he didn’t need to know) and patted his hand. “Glad to see you decided to join the living.”

“How did we get back here?” Ben asked. His voice was low and gravelly, either from sleep, shouting the night before, or a bit of both. He took a sip of his coffee and winced. Something was off. A moment later he figured it out—it was at least a day old. But he needed the caffeine to become a functioning human no matter how it tasted. “I don’t remember coming back here,” he added.

“Oh, Finn and Phasma dragged you up the stairs,” Rey explained as she dished up two meager plates of breakfast. “After Poe and Hux really started talking about making that porno, you went a little overboard on the liquor.”

“Hux bought us tequila shots,” Ben argued.

“Yes, and then you used September’s electric bill to buy two more rounds,” Rey replied. She looked at him, corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. “I would have stopped you, but you can be stealthy when you want to be.”

“I  _ am _  stealthy,” Ben mumbled. He dutifully drank more coffee and willed the caffeine to do its job.

Rey fumbled with the bottle on the counter and poured some ibuprofen into the palm of her hand and held the pills out to him. She’d already taken plenty for her own hangover, though she hadn’t gone nearly as  overboard as Ben had.

“I didn’t agree to it, did I?” he asked.

The earnest way Ben asked the question compelled Rey to look into his eyes.  She was fully on board at this point—Rey would do anything to pay the bills—but Ben had reservations. Rey didn’t blame him for that. “No,” she shook her head. She slid a plate and a fork across the counter to him. “You didn’t agree to it. But . . .”

Ben’s dark eyes narrowed and he waited for the caveat. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Rey wince before the words even left her mouth.

“But what?” Ben asked, unable to hold it back.

“Well . . .” Rey began. She sat down on the barstool next to Ben and said, “You  _ did _  text Lando asking for money, though. Or, well… we peer pressured you into it.”

Rey left out the part where Poe encouraged the whole thing and had walked a drunk Ben through the process of typing out and sending said text messages.  At least Poe had had the decency to make sure Ben didn't tell Lando just how broke they were. At the time, Ben had been seconds away from shouting to the entire gymnasium that he was  _ not  _ an entitled Millennial who wanted to mooch off of his well-to-do family members.

Ben’s shoulders relaxed. That wasn’t a big deal. He’d done that only once before, when Rey was really in a bad spot and they’d needed to cover the rent. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it again.

“You specifically said it was to film a porno.”

“Oh fuck.”

Rey elbowed Ben, trying to find the bright side of this, to keep him from feeling too weird about it. “Hey, it’s okay,” she insisted. “If he says yes, then we can do it! We can get the money we need and move on with our lives.”

“Why do you want to film a porno so bad?” Ben asked.

Instead of answering, Rey took a bite of her scrambled eggs and mulled over the question. “I guess . . .” she began. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Sounds kind of . . . fun.”

“Look, I’m not going to shame you,” Ben said, poking at a piece of egg on his own plate. He avoided Rey’s eyes as he said, “You can do whatever turns you on. But not everyone looks like you.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “I hope you don’t look like me,” she snorted. She looked over at Ben and grew serious at his expression. He genuinely looked insecure and that wasn’t a look she was used to seeing on his face. “But if this is about your body, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Rey.”

“You don’t!” she insisted. Rey turned on the barstool and kicked one foot against his calf. Ben sighed and let his fork fall to the plate with a  _ clink! _  Rey waited until he was giving her his full attention before she said, “You’re  _ sexy _ . You work out. You’re strong. The LARPing with those sword things gave you  _ abs _ .” Rey smiled at him and ducked her head down to try to catch his gaze again as he looked down at his lap. “Just think about it, okay?” Rey asked. “And remember that when people watch porn, it’s almost always for the boobs and not for the penises.”

“Wow, okay,” Ben said, sitting up awkwardly and turning back to his food. “We are  _ done _  with this conversation, and I never want to hear you say the word  _ penis _  again.”

“Dick?” Rey teased.

“Stop!”

“Willy?”

“Rey!”

She laughed and let Ben turn back to his breakfast. She liked to make him squirm a little, to get under his skin. All she hoped for was that she’d nestled the idea in his head enough to make a difference—she needed him to consider it. T hey were running out of options and Rey didn’t want to end up homeless because of this.  They could swallow their pride for  _ one _  porno.

+        +        +

Work sucked. There were no two ways around it. Ben had just suffered through the worst Black Friday shift of his life, with Mitaka being an insufferable micromanager the entire six hours they’d worked together.

More than anything, Ben wanted to go home and get a good night’s sleep, even if it wasn’t going to start until now, at 3:30 A.M. After charging his phone at work, he’d discovered the string of text messages he’d sent to Lando, just as Rey said he had. Given the sheer number of typos and the fact that he’d wished Lando a Happy Thanksgiving, Ben was willing to bet a significant amount of money that he hadn’t actually been the one to send the texts. He’d bet it had been Poe, but it wouldn’t be surprising if it had been Hux or even Rey.

He fumbled with his keys, having taken the car to work since Rey had the holiday off. Right away, Ben was on alert when he detected the faint smell of bonfire. It was too late in the year for anyone around to have a bonfire—and too late in the  _ night _ . Which meant something was burning, and the last thing Ben wanted to deal with was a fire in the apartment building after a long Black Friday shift.

The smell only got stronger as he climbed the stairs, and Ben wished he could say he was surprised when he opened the door to their apartment and was met with a face full of bonfire smoke.

The lights were off, and the apartment was cold, and Rey stood wearing every jacket she owned. “I hope those tequila shots were worth it,” Rey said with a frown. She walked towards him with a blanket and said, “You’ll want this. And leave your jacket on, too.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“They shut off our power,” Rey said simply. “Now we have no water  _ and  _ no power. Which means no heat.”

Ben pointed to the center of the room. “What’s that?”

Rey stood a little straighter with a smile on her face. She looked so proud. “It’s a bonfire!” she explained. “I was cold, so I went outside and grabbed what I could find.”

“You scavenged a trash fire in the middle of the night?”

With her hands on her hips, Rey nodded. “It’s so warm! We’ll have to sleep out here until we get the power turned back on but that should be fine. The couch isn’t too uncomfortable and I can sleep in the recliner.”

She looked so accomplished for having come up with a solution to the problem. Ben was grateful that she worked so hard to find some source of heat, but he also felt the dread pooling in his stomach. Regardless of how he felt about himself or the thought of Rey letting  _ any _  of the other guys they hung out with have sex with her, Ben was starting to wonder if making that porno really  _ was _  their ticket out of this hellfire.

Their life was literally going up in flames. All their magazines were in the trash can Rey kept stoking with a metal rod she likely grabbed from the heap of junk in the basement of the building where the landlord kept his tools and probably a few murder weapons. The whole place was sketchy, but their apartment had somehow become the sketchiest.

“Come here,” Rey said, taking a seat on the sofa where she’d piled every blanket they could find. She patted the cushion next to her, smile still on her face.

It was really obscene, how Rey could twist any situation into a positive.  Somehow.  She always walked away smiling, and Ben couldn’t fathom it. He knew she’d had a less than perfect childhood, but this was something else entirely. He couldn’t stay grumpy with her though, even if this was the very last thing he’d wanted to come home to. She was trying so hard, and he really had made some poor drunken decisions.

“Hang on, I’m going to—oh.” He’d been about to say he should open the windows for ventilation, but when he turned he found the task completed already. At the very least, Rey had thought to make sure that even if they accidentally burn the apartment down, they wouldn’t suffocate in the smoke and ash the fire would produce. Insulation would be shot, of course. If they stayed near the single source of warmth, it would do well enough for one night.

Ben sat down next to her and slid an arm around her as she sidled up to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and she instantly flooded his body with warmth—most of which was PG and he could deal with. The rest he would deal with on a later date, when he wasn’t so worried about keeping himself from dying in the brutal winter cold.

“We really can’t keep this fire after tonight,” he advised. Rey thought she detected a hint of regret in his voice, and wondered if he felt bad about bursting her bubble. He was right, though. “There are about a dozen ways it’ll eventually kill us. And building codes, probably.”

“I know. I was just trying to come up with a solution for the night. If we’re still alive in the morning, we can try to find a camp heater. That’s a thing, right?”

“Uh. I’m not sure. It sounds like it could be. I haven’t been camping probably since I was ten.”

Rey assumed she’d just called up some childhood memory Ben didn’t feel like getting in to, but she couldn’t help being inspired by the mention of camping and the past.

“Tell me a story,” Rey asked softly, tucking her head under his chin.

Ben sighed. “What kind of story?” He yawned, exhausted after a long day at work. It was nearly four in the morning, after all.

“I don’t know,” Rey replied. “It’s too cold to sleep. Tell me a story from when you were young.”

“Okay,” Ben said, mulling it over in his head. After a moment, he sighed and said, “Well, you know Chewie?”

“Of course,” Rey smiled. She nestled in closer to Ben and pulled another blanket over their laps in a desperate attempt to warm up. Her fingers felt like ice, and she could tell Ben was valiantly trying not to shiver.

“Well, when I was younger, he had a lot more energy,” Ben began.

Rey tilted her head to look up at Ben and asked, “How old is that dog, anyway? He’s been around at least since I started at the shop, and that was eight years ago now.”

“He’s old,” said Ben with a chuckle. “I don’t know for sure how old, because we’ve had him for as long as I can remember.”

“But you’re  _ twenty-nine _ .”

Ben jabbed Rey’s side. “I  _ know _ ,” he said. “Don’t remind me—and stop interrupting.”

“Sorry,” Rey smiled. “Continue.”

“Well, there was this one day, it was in high school, I think,” Ben began. “I forget why, but I left my calligraphy set near the edge of my desk, and had some food up there, too. Well you know Chewie, he loves his food.” Rey nodded, her head resting upon Ben’s shoulder again. She cuddled up to him, half for warmth and half just because she felt safe around him and liked being near him, especially when he smelled like coffee.

“He tried to get the food and knocked over my inkwell. It got all over the carpet.”

Rey snorted.

“Oh wait, it gets better,” Ben added. “Not only did he knock over the ink, but he got it all over his paws and trailed inky paw prints out of my room and down the hall. I couldn’t even  _ think _  about telling my mom I didn’t do it.” He shook his head. “That damn dog.”

“He’s a good dog,” Rey argued with a content smile on her face.

Ben chuckled. “Aside from that day, yeah . . . he is. I don’t know how he’s lived so long.”

“Maybe you should check with the Guinness Record Book,” Rey said seriously. She yawned and snuggled a little closer to him. That didn’t stop the shivering, though. “Ugh, I’m so cold.”

“Rey . . .”

She shoved the blankets off of herself haphazardly and climbed down to the floor. Closer to the trash can with the fire inside, she felt a little bit warmer, but still not enough. This was terrible. They  _ really  _ needed to do something to fix this, and soon, or they were going to end up in even worse straits than they already were. With freezing cold hands, Rey took Ben’s in her own and knelt in front of him. She looked up at him with big doe eyes and squeezed his hands a little.

“Ben Solo, you’re one of my very best friends. And this whole situation is complete shit.  But.  Will you please, pretty please, with a cherry on top, have sex with me on camera for money?” He didn’t look convinced, so she rubbed his hands between hers, warming her own marginally and probably his as well. “I promise, it won’t be weird. It’s only me.”

Ben swallowed around a lump in his throat. A voice in his head was still telling him to say no, but Rey was looking at him so earnestly, and they were freezing in their apartment with no heat, no power, and no water. Their situation couldn’t get any worse. And if he didn’t say yes, someone else would and Rey would do this movie herself, and . . . he was protective of her. They were friends. He didn’t want her to get hurt.

That’s really all it was. Really.

After a heavy sigh, Ben nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, Rey. I’ll have sex with you for money. On . . . camera.”

Rey squealed, smiling brightly at Ben as she stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck in an over-eager embrace. Ben caught her, but barely, and they tumbled over on the couch. “Thank you,” she grinned.

As they shifted the blankets around and tried to get as comfortable as was possible in the circumstances, Rey sensed that Ben was still a little reluctant about this. She was trying not to take it personally. Whatever his hang up was, she didn’t think it had anything to do with her. They trusted each other. And it wasn’t exactly ordinary, what they were planning to do. It was normal to feel a little nervous, she supposed.  If that’s what he was dealing with.  Something new dawned on her, and she tried to look serious again.

“Hey, you know what?” she asked, settling against his side when he drew an arm around her shoulders. He shivered a little (or she did, it was hard to tell), and she threw her arm over his middle in turn. “I forgot, what Hux said the other night. You should write the script!”

“The script.”

Okay, so he didn’t sound as thrilled with the idea as she had hoped. Then again, Rey wasn’t sure Ben really did “thrilled” at all. “Yeah, the script. We  _ do _  need one, you know. We’re not all just going to get together and rip our clothes off and start sticking things in other things at random.”

“Oh my God.” Despite what Rey imagined must be annoyance at her continued harping about the movie, Ben laughed. “Right. True.”

“So you’ll do it?”

He gave a noncommittal groan, and Rey shook her head. “Oh, come on. You’re a good writer! And then you can make sure nothing is getting too out of hand. Right?”

Control.  Rey knew he liked control. If the prospect of writing didn’t get him, maybe the sense of having some say in the way this went would. She tipped her head back to try to gauge his expression. In the flickering firelight he looked dramatic and pensive, and she almost laughed.

“Fine, fine. Yes. I’ll  . . . write a porno script.” His head canted to the side, and he looked pained. “Fuck. This is not the sort of thing I had in mind when I thought I wanted to put my degree to use.”

“Putting your degree to use? Hah.” Rey’s experience with degrees and college—watching her marks plummet when she couldn’t balance academics with earning enough to support herself, losing her scholarship, having to drop out, kissing that engineering degree goodbye—had not been a good one, and she was still dealing with its debts anyway. She didn’t generally consider herself bitter over it, but every so often, the reminder stung, and it was difficult to sympathize with Ben’s plight just now. “That’s an illusion. Don’t worry, I’ll help you if you want. I have good ideas.”

“I’m sure you do.” Ben was quiet for a few moments, then said conclusively, “Okay. Let’s not talk about this again until tomorrow. I told you a story. Now you tell me one. Make it scary. Maybe something about the corrupt state of today’s higher education industry.”

Rey chuckled and prodded him in the ribs, then tried to think of some way to fill his request. He was right, they didn’t need to talk about the script or the porno or their bills or any of it right now. This was fine. They had a plan. It may not have been the most conventional one to get their finances in order, but it would be fun and they had a whole group of friends willing to help. By the time the new year arrived, their bills would be paid, their home would be a home again, and this entire crisis would be just another amusing story to look back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Song of Trash and Fire' will be updated weekly on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1) to ~set the mood~.
>
>> > **Chapter 2 // Trashfire is Coming**  
>  Viva La Vida - Coldplay  
> Just One Drink - Jack White  
> Poker Face - Lady Gaga  
> If U Seek Amy - Britney Spears  
> 10 Dollar - M.I.A.  
> Dusk Til Dawn - ZAYN feat. Sia  
> Polite Dance Song - the bird and the bee  
> 


	3. Kylo Ren is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still living in unpaid-bills-induced darkness, Ben and Rey hunker down to write the porno of the century—or at least a passable one. 
> 
> Later, Ben learns that his turn-ons are, in no particular order: correcting people, scolding people, girls dressed as his LARP character, and girls rasping in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the lovely Leoba and MrsViolet for volunteering their time to beta-reading! <3

As he’d expected, Ben’s late night/early morning shift had completely thrown off his internal clock—not that it took much. His whole life was essentially a series of sleep issues: night terrors as a child, sleep paralysis and somnambulance in adolescence, intermittent bouts of insomnia in college and even now, sometimes. He was fairly positive that this was at least in part why he’d found himself so drawn to writing at an early age. It was something to pass the time when he couldn’t sleep or to work out the unease he often felt on waking to things that weren’t really there. Some kids drew pictures. Ben had written stories. Nightmares could be unexpectedly inspiring.

Unfortunately however, this current nightmare was his actual life. And all it inspired in him was an urge to leave everything behind and retreat into the wilderness. But he was pretty sure even _that_ would cost money he didn’t have. The sooner he moved past this series of ordeals and forgot any of it had ever happened, the better. 

He and Rey had finally fallen asleep on the couch early Friday morning, huddled in a pathetic lump out of necessity as their fire had begun to dwindle and the sky had turned the pale purple of dawn. Or maybe the half-assed campfire stories they’d started telling each other had just become that boring. She must have gotten up at some point as he’d continued to sleep, because when he woke, still wrapped in several blankets, he was alone and confused.

The time—6:57 P.M.—flashed up on his phone when he checked. The battery was getting low but would probably last until he was able to get out and charge it somewhere. Ben sat up and yawned. It was Friday still, just much later in the day and dark again already. He’d fallen asleep in his work uniform, which meant he’d been wearing it nearly twenty-four hours now—marinating in the thing under all his layers of jackets and blankets. The realization made him shudder, and his horror was compounded when he remembered he wouldn’t be showering anytime soon. The nightmare continued.

Ben did his best to return to their normal routine. He folded the blankets and left them on the couch for later, because there was little reason to think tonight would be different than last. He went to his room, located some clean clothes, and changed, piling on several shirts and thankful they’d made a trip to the laundromat earlier in the week. He combed his hair on principle but then just covered it with a hat. In the kitchen, after a brief search by lantern light, he found little to stave off his hunger, which was considerable given that the last time he’d eaten had been . . . when? 

For the first time, he regretted bailing on his parents’ Thanksgiving dinner invitation. He settled for a half-full bag of off-brand Doritos and returned to his room, making a mental note to hit the convenience store with Rey tomorrow. It had a microwave and about a dozen or more other luxuries currently absent from their apartment.

With the lantern perched on his desk, Ben laid out a few sheets of lined paper, grabbed a pen, and stared at the blank pages. After he’d agreed to do this project with Rey, which he still could only half believe had happened, she’d practically insisted that he write the script. She seemed to think this was an incentive, and he couldn’t help but be a little insulted at first. Ben liked to think he took writing seriously. Porn, in his experience, wasn’t exactly known for its sophisticated plots and punchy dialogue. At best, you might get a fairly amusing and titillating parody of some less smutty source material. 

So, he decided, he was going to need to do it his way. Maybe something Rey had burnt in that fire last night released toxic fumes into the air, because suddenly he was feeling significantly less pessimistic about this venture. Somehow. Despite the fact that he was unshowered, uncaffeinated, and wearing three sweaters while handwriting a porno script by the light of a camp lantern and leaving ‘OUTRAGEOUS HOT CHILI LIME!’ chip crumbs all over his desk.

Plot. Right. What would he write about if his life had taken such a bizarre and dark turn that his livelihood depended on creating a script full of sex scenes for himself and his circle of acquaintances? ‘If.’ Haha. 

Out in the living room, the door opened and slammed shut, and Rey’s booted footfalls thudded across the floor. “Ben? You still alive in here? Have you frozen to death?”

“Still alive. For now,” he called back, still distracted by his work. “Please tell me you managed to find a heater or something today.”

“I said I would, didn't I? I’ve got dinner, too. How do you feel about tacos? They’re still hot!”

At this point, the promise of any form of heat was profoundly inspiring, even more so when it was in the form of food. Ben stood, grabbed his writing supplies, lantern, and snacks, and went out to join her. “I feel like they’d go really well with these gross chips you keep buying.”

“I can’t help if you have bad taste,” Rey said as she wandered back toward the front door. “Hot chili lime is the shit. I’d eat it for every meal if I could. Mmm.”

“You’re deranged.” 

He left the bag of chips (which, despite his complaints, was considerably emptier than it had been when he’d grabbed it from the kitchen) on the table and dropped onto the couch. There were two large paper bags on the table too, smelling strongly of fast-food taco meat and sauce. “Jeez, how much did you buy?”

Rey was bearing something metallic and cylindrical in her arms as she returned to the table. After a few seconds, Ben managed to place why the object looked familiar. It was a kerosene heater. Those weren’t cheap, at least not to him and Rey. And this one. . .he knew exactly where she’d gotten it. As she set it down beside their now-redundant trash can, he wondered when his father had actually last used it, then decided it didn’t matter.

“They were three for two bucks, so I bought twelve. Plus they had a special on churro bites, so there’s some of those. And a really big quesadilla. You’re a growing boy.” She patted his chest the way someone might pat the flank of a prized racehorse and gestured vaguely at the table. “I got you coffee, too. See?” 

He _did_ see. She was clearly still under the impression that he needed buttering up. But he was also hungry enough that this all sounded amazing, and he supposed the money she’d spent on their feast had gotten them more than it would have elsewhere. And he needed something to keep him going tonight if he was supposed to write an even vaguely coherent script.

“Thanks.” He reached for one of the bags and helped himself to a taco, which he covered liberally in hot sauce. Nodding in the direction of the heater, which Rey had paid no mind to since putting it down, he asked, “Do you have fuel for that?”

“Yes. Patience, grasshopper.” She went to the doorway one more time and came back with a large container of kerosene. “Han supplied that, too.”

Ben’s face fell. “What did you say you needed it for?”

“Don’t worry. I told him you’d been griping about how you could use something like it for one of your LARP things next month, but you were refusing to be reasonable and ask him to borrow it yourself.”

“That doesn’t even make any—”

“Are you really going to complain to me about this?”

“No,” Ben conceded, feeling properly chastised. “Sorry. Thank you.”

“Do you know how to get it running? I didn’t actually ask. I assume it’s fairly straightforward, but I’ve never used one of these before. Seems wise to maybe approach it with a practiced hand when flammables are involved.” 

That was rich. She didn’t seem to think so last night when she’d piled half the paper in the apartment into a trash can and set it all ablaze. Ben nodded. “Yeah, I think I can remember enough to figure it out. Let me finish this and I’ll have a look.”

“Great.” Satisfied with their arrangements for the night, Rey joined him on the couch and unwrapped the quesadilla. It looked disgusting and delicious.

“We should go to the corner store tomorrow. And maybe you can see if Rose will let you—us—use her place to shower? And charge our phones? Or Finn, even. I feel disgusting enough at this point that I’d tolerate Dameron being in the vicinity while I'm naked and wet.”

“Actually, we should probably _both_ get comfortable with that, friend.”

Ben stared at her, then frowned. “Stop reminding me.” 

She laughed. “Yeah, I’ll ask Rose. She’ll be back home tomorrow, and I’ve got to bring her clothes back anyway. She won’t mind. Or you know, you could ask your parents if we could drop by.”

“No,” he answered without hesitation.

“Why not? It’s not like you’d be asking them for money.”

“The less reason they have to think I’m having trouble, the better. I go by for a shower, they’re going to want to know why. It’s impossible to lie to my mom. Either of them, actually.” For him, anyway—Rey evidently had little trouble pulling a fast one on Han. But then again, that was Rey. She charmed everyone. “I still need to figure out what the hell I’m saying to Lando, by the way, so thanks for that.”

Rey wasn’t pleased, but she shrugged. “Fine. I’ll text Rose later.”

“And I’ll message Lando tomorrow.” His phone battery situation was still dire, and he didn’t want to get into a lengthy exchange right now. Until then, the lack of follow-up might at least support the theory that Ben had simply texted him in a fit of drunken antics and that any talk of making amateur porn had been patently false.

They let the topic drop, and as Ben set up the heater, Rey told him about her day. Her accounts rarely varied much, but he never minded listening. Whatever distanced relationship he had with his parents, they’d done right by Rey after her troubles in college. He usually only saw them for seder and maybe a Hanukkah dinner, or more importantly whenever Lando came to town. But they were still there, and they took care of Rey almost like she was one of their own. And the way she always talked about it, it was clear that she loved her job at Solo Auto, even if she’d once had grander ambitions. So had he, frankly. 

When he was feeling full and warm, Ben decided it was time to get to work. Dutifully, he dragged the table a little closer to the couch, and set up his supplies.

“Inspiration strikes?” Rey asked after a long swig of beer. They’d left whatever bottles and cans they had near a window, so at least the alcohol was essentially refrigerated. 

“Not really. I think I’m just going to start and see what happens.” 

“So old-fashioned, too.”

It took him a moment to figure out what she meant. “Oh. My laptop’s dead. Or close enough that I don’t want to waste the battery for this. Yours is, too; I checked,” he added when he saw her beginning to formulate the idea. “I’ll write it out and transcribe tomorrow when I find a place to plug in. Maybe the library.”

Writing his first porno in a library. What a feather in his cap. Well, he supposed people probably read it there, furtively. He’d seen how extensive the romance novel collection was. He was just doing them one better.

“Ahh. Good plan.”

He paused, looking thoughtfully around the room like something might jump out and tell him how to begin. “You know the last time I wrote a script was that one in high school?”

“I remember. For the drama club. Nerd.”

“Shut up. I wasn’t even a member.”

“Hmm.” She was busy splitting up the supply of churros so that they each had the same amount, then peeling the lid off a little cup of sugary caramel dip. “You were so serious about it and kept leaving me messages on MySpace or something asking me to check it for you. For . . . veritability? What was it?”

The memory made him chuckle. He’d forgotten that part. “Verisimilitude, probably. I was such a pretentious little shit.”

“Was?” He threw a glance her way and she raised a teasing eyebrow, eyes sparkling a little. She sighed and sounded almost wistful when she said, “Looks like we’ve come full circle. Wonder what you’d have said then if you knew the next time we collaborated, it would be for this?”

“I absolutely would not have believed you.”

Rey’s seeming eagerness over this was still weird to him. Was this just an excuse? Did she just want to have sex with him? He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Strangely, in all the time they had lived together, and even before that, it hadn't crossed his mind that she might. It was Rey. He wasn’t naive enough to claim she was like a sister to him, because she wasn’t. Cousin, maybe. No, not that, either. It wasn’t familial at all. She was . . . a fixture in his life. 

Anyway, she was right. It was just sex. Neither of them had ever been in a serious long-term relationship; they both seemed to prefer to keep things short-lived and casual when it came to dating. This wouldn't be any different. Might even be better. None of the complications of the before and after involved. Everything determined already. Rules in place. No surprises. And he supposed, maybe, he’d wondered a few times over the years what it might be like with her. That was completely normal; but now he was beginning to suspect she’d had the same thoughts about him, given her little pep talk yesterday. 

He also thought Rey was getting the wrong idea about his reservations. It wasn’t necessarily that he was insecure—he figured that he must be attractive enough, given that he rarely had any issues finding partners when he put in the effort. He just wasn’t overly fond of the idea of being recorded and watched by strangers. Talk about performance anxiety. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. He didn’t know the people who would eventually see it, so what did he care what they thought? It might just be, though he hated to draw the comparison, like a very particular type of LARPing. And writing this script was a bit like acting as gamemaster. 

Ah, there was an idea. He jabbed his pen in her direction.

“You’re a princess,” he declared, looking away from her and jotting something down.

“Excuse me?” Rey looked genuinely confused, her beer bottle halfway to her mouth.

He was still writing. “In the script.” 

“A princess. In a porno.”

“Why not? It’s a fucking porno. It can have whatever we want in it, as long as everyone’s having sex. A princess is tame.”

“O . . . kay . . .”

“Is that a problem?” Maybe it had offended her for some reason, though he couldn’t imagine why. He narrowed his eyes. “I can make you a sexy mechanic if you prefer. Like a Mad Max schtick . . .”

Rey laughed, tipping back into the couch cushions a little. “No, a princess is fine. I’m flattered. And not a big fan of desert dystopias.”

“You sure?” He pretended to scratch out what he’d been writing. “You don’t want to wear a pair of low-cut mesh coveralls and do it with me in a big slick of motor oil?”

She made a strangled sound, and when Ben glanced at her, he could see it was because she was now gasping for breath. He took advantage of her condition and continued. “Yes, actually, I’m getting impossibly turned on just thinking about it. We could call you . . . hm. ‘Madam Drive-her’? A horny automotive fuck-nition with a fetish for souped-up classic cars?”

“No, no, no! Stop!” she cried, swatting at his writing hand and still shaking with laughter. “I’m a princess! I’m a princess!”

“If you insist, Your Highness,” he said with a lopsided grin.

“I’m going to beat you to death with this bottle.”

“Please, do it. I want to be free of this pain,” he drawled. He shook his head. “And _you_ want me to have fun with this. I’m having fun with this. Are you going to help or not?”

“Yes. You clearly need it. ‘Do it with you in a big slick of motor oil,’ ugh. Way to ruin my job for me.” She put her beer down and shifted around to face him, as if she were trying to assume a position that would best allow creativity to flow between them. “Now eat your churros and let’s get this done.”

\+ + +

Saturday felt like a fresh start, and Ben was actually in a good mood for the first time since the previous weekend. They had finished a (very) rough draft of the as-yet-untitled script sometime after midnight, done a couple of celebratory shots, and gone to sleep in much the same fashion as they had the night before. After waking at a fairly normal hour, they hit the convenience store, gorged on cheap bagels and coffee, and spent a few hours at Rose’s place. Aside from letting them use her shower and electrical outlets, she even fed them lunch and saw them off with a bag of nonperishable leftovers. It was almost like they’d been transported to another life.

But it had to come to an end eventually. Ben needed to get to the library in time to have a few hours to transcribe and print, and he figured Rey probably wouldn’t mind having the apartment to herself for a while, so he dropped her off and took the car. Luckily, he was at least very practiced at this type of work, and it went quickly. He finished with more than enough time to not make himself a nuisance to library staff, who probably hated closing-time lingerers as much as he hated the people who came into the coffee shop two minutes before close and expected a freshly brewed cup and a full selection of pastries. If anything needed fine tuning later, he’d mark the script up at home.

When he entered the apartment, it was still an hour or so before dark. He was glad they’d taken some time to tidy up together that morning—the place had started to look like a vagrant camp with their kerosene heater and battery-powered lantern, though they’d moved the trash can back outside in the morning now that they no longer needed it. The coffee table, TV stand, and several other surfaces were now cluttered with Rey’s extensive collection of candles. Most of them were, unfortunately, scented. 

Last night she’d tried to make it into a bit of a game, goading him to guess what bizarre combination she’d chosen to light. Ben didn’t really mind, despite being fairly sure they were going to start giving him headaches after a while. There was a lump of cloth on the table, too, which proved to be one of Rey’s sewing projects. Some dress she’d decided to patch up. Curious, Ben picked it up to have a look when a sound from the hall distracted him.

Not the hall. His room. Eyes narrowing, he set the dress down and took a few steps toward the hallway.

“Rey?” His voice carried easily, but in the unusual silence the effect only creeped him out. “That you?”

It still didn’t explain why she’d be in his room rather than her own, but it was far better than a murderous intruder. 

“Yes?” That was definitely Rey’s voice, and it was definitely coming from his room. He recognized her tone as the one she used when she was doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. 

Ben was almost afraid to ask. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Needed to borrow—nothing! I’ll be right out. Don’t—”

Too late. Ben crossed the threshold and found exactly what he’d long dreaded finding. Rey was standing by his closet, where she had pulled down a rather large box from the storage shelf. He’d always thought that it was a safe enough place. It was high up. But then, she was fairly tall. All she’d needed to do to reach it was move his desk chair over to stand on, move aside the pile of towels he used to cover the box, and slide it out.

Nothing else in the closet was out of place. The towels were neatly stacked on the chair and ready to be replaced when she put the box back. She’d known exactly what she wanted and where to find it. It dawned on him that this was not the first time she had done this. Fuck.

“Oh. Hello. Welcome back. How’d the transcribing go?” She shuffled uncomfortably. 

Maybe she was blushing or wearing a penitent look. Ben couldn’t tell, because her face—her entire head—was covered by a black helmet in the odd hybrid style of medieval knight and samurai warrior. It was the one he used to use during LARP meets, before he’d pulled together the money to get a better one made. He’d almost forgotten how much cheaper this one looked by comparison. Behind her, on his bed, the box sat open, with a few other old costume articles he hadn’t used in years on full display. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He was trying not to sound angry, but it was difficult. This was definitely an invasion of privacy, and he had every right to be mad if he wanted to be.

“Uh, LARPing?”

“Take that off.” 

Aside from the helmet, Rey had also donned a long, tattered black cowl, which she’d pulled up over her head, and a wide belt that was too big on her even though it was fastened as tight as it could be. She was holding a long replica saber that by all accounts looked quite real. The ensemble looked ridiculous over her jeans and sweater. Ignoring his request, she marched up to him and did a weird little spin, much as she had a couple nights ago when they were trying to figure out what she should wear to the reunion.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding her hands up and brandishing the saber.

“I think you’re going to stab yourself with that if you’re not careful, and I think I’m pissed that you’ve been fucking around with my shit. Take it off and get out of my room.”

“You don’t even use this stuff anymore,” she protested. “It’s been up there for almost two years.”

“How do you know that?” He suspected he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.

She groaned, and he could practically feel her rolling her eyes behind the mask. “Because I come in here sometimes when you’re not home and look at your costumes. Sometimes I try them on. Just for fun; it’s nothing weird. I mean, it’s already sort of weird that you have them, so—”

“Well at least you’re honest.”

“Sorry.” She sounded sincere, and despite the fact that it really was pretty rude of her to be in here when she could have just asked . . . well. Maybe she did have a point. If she’d asked to see them, much less try them on, he probably would have said no. Which was, now that he was thinking about it, needlessly stodgy.

“It’s . . . forget it. Whatever. Just put it back and let’s get some work done out there while there’s actually still some sunlight.”

“Wait. We really could use these.”

“We could use what?”

“The costumes! We need costumes. And this would be so perfect for that evil dark knight character, and you’ve got some others I could make some quick alterations on and—”

“You want to use these for _that_?” Another one of Hux’s brilliant ideas, he now recalled. If it was possible to punch someone in the face via text, Ben would have been mightily tempted right about now. “Rey, these were expensive. I don’t want people getting fluids, and whatever, all over them. Might as well just burn them right now.”

She grabbed his arm and straightened up. God, she was wearing the fucking leather gloves too. They were also, incidentally, too big for her hands. It was very difficult to take her seriously right now. Ben laughed sourly and immediately hated himself for it.

“What’s this character called anyway?” she asked, letting go of him and sounding genuinely curious as she temporarily dropped the topic of using the costumes for their movie.

Well, this was happening, apparently. Fighting to keep his voice even, Ben walked around her to sit on the edge of his bed. “Kylo Ren. It’s the same character I play as now. Just an older costume.”

“Kylo Ren . . .” She enunciated slowly, like she was trying to decide if she enjoyed the sound. “It sounds like something you’d get if you did one of those name generator memes. ‘What’s Your Middle-Earth Name?’”

Ben blinked at her and pressed his lips together.

“It does!” She strutted around, waving the saber again, checking herself out in his mirror and kicking her leg out to assume a surprisingly decent combat stance. “It’s okay though, Mr. Ren’s got this cool sword to make up for it.”

“It’s a saber. Which . . . is a sword, but a certain type. Like how a square is a rectangle but not all rectangles are squares.”

“Noted. N-E-R-D.”

“Okay, seriously, playtime’s over. We don’t need a saber for a porno. Or—”

“Don’t we?” She waggled it suggestively in front of her hips, walking toward him with it, point outward. “Hmm?”

“Did you seriously just make a dick joke with that? Are you drunk?” Ben held out his hand for the saber, but she ignored him and tossed it onto the bed instead. “You can’t just come in here and take my old stuff and decide we’re going to use it for—”

Without warning, she hopped onto the bed with him, folded her legs underneath herself, and pressed her masked face against his ear. In a low voice muffled by the plastic, she murmured, “You know . . . I can take . . . whatever I want. _Princess_.” He heard her breath rasp against the mouthpiece.

This was what he got for letting her help him write the script. He felt his face getting warm, and some other parts of him too, and it was definitely going to become uncomfortable if she kept this up. He refused to pop a boner while scolding Rey for wearing his Kylo Ren costume. Unless she was trying to goad him into some sort of test-run of their scene. Which he doubted. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“I need to text Lando,” he said, firmly pushing her face away and standing. “Let’s put a pin in this. I’ll think about it. Maybe you’re right. I’m not using them anyway and we don’t exactly have the luxury of time.”

He looked over at her. She was taking the mask off and had a strange look on her face, half bemused grin, half . . . something else. Her cheeks were a little pink. Probably the helmet. It got hot in there very fast. 

“I’ll put this all away for now. I’m always careful, I promise.” She was already on her feet and replacing everything in the box with practiced care. He appreciated that. He also felt like an ass for getting angry. “And I’m sorry. I should have told you I wanted to see them the first time. It’s still insanely nerdy. But they’re very nice.”

“Thanks, I get it.”

Back in the living room, he sipped a beer while he waited for Rey and finally bit the bullet. He scrolled through a few more recent texts before he checked Lando’s only reply from sometime Thursday morning, and the nonsense that led up to it.

 **9:54 P.M.:** _heyyyyyy LANDO!_  
**9:55 P.M.:** _hey! Sry. wunna ask u_  
**9:59 P.M.:** _Ask you a question. Got an oportunity for u -- investmnt!!!_  
**10:01 P.M.:** _ever considered financin a porno ; )_  
**10:02 P.M.:** _??? HIT ME UP. HAPPY THUNKSGIVNG!_

 **9:32 A.M.:** _Hi Ben. Just going to assume this was the fruits of a few too many drinks. Hope to see you tonight at your mom and dad’s. If not, be in touch. Happy Thanksgiving, kid._

It was worse than he remembered, apparently. How embarrassing. Chewing the inside of his cheek a little, Ben started typing a reply.

_Hey. Sorry about that._  
_Idiot friends took my phone at reunion, had too much fun.  
How was dinner at my parents’? _

All he could do now was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, there is a playlist for this fic now, because we can't control ourselves. If you enjoy topical and/or occasionally sexually explicit music, have a listen! 'Song of Trash and Fire' will be updated weekly on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1) to ~set the mood~.
>
>> **Chapter 3 // Kylo Ren is Coming**  
>  Sex Yeah - Marina and the Diamonds  
> Take Away - Kate Nash  
> Self Preservation - The Lucksmiths  
> Dreaming - Blondie  
> Paradise City - Guns n’ Roses  
> My Leather, My Fur, My Nails - Stepdad


	4. The Fist is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving some help from an unlikely source, the crew comes together to read Ben's porno script, bringing plenty of ideas of their own, much to Ben's chagrin. Once the script has been seen by all, Ben and Rey head back to Philly to make revisions - only those approved by Ben, of course - and to sort out costumes. Who knew Ben's LARP habits could prove so fruitful?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, your weekly installment of A Song of Trash and Fire! Many thanks to Dot and Tia for beta'ing this chapter, and to all of you for your support and encouragement!

Compulsively, Ben checked his phone. At the same moment, they drove over a pothole. Rey swore loudly, and the violent bump of the tires nearly made the phone fly from his hand. The Buick endured it, though, which was something. Rey really did do an uncannily good job keeping the thing in working order. He was sure that under anyone else’s care it would have been little more than a bucket of bolts years ago. It was late Sunday morning, and they were driving to the place Finn and Poe shared a few towns over; not a long trip, but Ben and Rey were both painfully conscious of the gas it was costing them. Their own apartment was basically unfit to live in, though, and no one else had offered to host. They weren’t going to force that on others. Or invite more pity.

“We’re almost there, right?” Ben asked. 

God, he sounded tense. He _was_ tense, for so many reasons that he could no longer identify any single one. Mostly, he assumed, he was on edge about this thing being read by the others. He was actually sort of attached to it now, despite his own logical conclusions that it was the worst thing he had ever written. 

“Yeah. Fifteen minutes. Less if I speed,” Rey assured him, her eyes flicking momentarily from the road to him. “Hey. Calm down. I’ve got almost a full tank, and I’m . . . not maxed out yet on all my cards. You know?” 

She patted his knee, which only made him more tense for some reason—the opposite of what she intended, no doubt. “I know.” He sighed and looked at his phone again. Still no reply from Lando . . . wait. 

_[UNCA is typing . . .]_

“Oh, by the way—”

“Hang on, Lando’s finally texting, I think.” 

“Yeah? What’s he say?” Rey sounded a little nervous. Lando’s help really would be a boon. Without it, they would have to find another way to get their hands on some inexpensive recording equipment and a place to do this, and Ben didn’t foresee Hux suddenly becoming more generous and offering financial assistance after all.

“Nothing yet . . .”

_Ben! Sorry for the delay. I was flying out west last night._  
_I know a thing or two about idiot friends. Your dad and I have some stories._  
_Well, nothing you probably haven’t heard. Dinner was good._  
_I assume you had prior plans._

Ben groaned. 

“Did he say no?” 

“Huh? Oh. No.” Ben typed a quick reply, ignoring Lando’s implication. “I didn’t ask yet. Let me think.”

_It’s fine. Should have guessed. I have a question for you._  
_Actually, it’s about that weird text I sent._

_Oh?_

Ben’s stomach was in knots. He hated asking for favors, especially a favor as strange as this one. At least, it would be strange coming from him. Still, it was better than saying outright that they couldn’t pay their bills and were hoping this could be their ticket to solvency. Requesting money to pay off their outstanding bills would only fix the problem for, what, a month or two, if they were lucky? They needed something that would provide a longer and larger payout, at least until they could get back on their feet. This could be it. It had to be.

He stared at the string of texts and considered how to phrase his proposal. Best to be straightforward to the degree his pride would allow. 

_So, the thing about the video. I actually was wondering if I could borrow some money._  
_For recording equipment. Maybe a cheap rental space._  
_I’ll repay. ASAP._

Ugh, this sounded entitled and trashy. Damn Millennials, using all their money for avocado toast and homemade pornos. He shook his head and flipped his phone face down to rest on his leg while he waited for a reply. Rey took the gesture as an opening.

“Anyway, as I was saying. I wanted to tell you before we get to Finn’s.” Rey cleared her throat and sounded very casual. “Yesterday Rose was asking if everything’s okay with us . . .”

“‘With us’?” Ben interrupted.

“Yeah?” Rey frowned a little. “The apartment. It’s sort of weird when your friend and her roommate need to come use your shower and electricity because theirs have been shut off? Most people worry.”

“Oh. Right.”

“So yeah, she asked, and one thing led to another. But I told her about what we’re doing.”

“Why?” Ben’s eyes widened. “When was this all going on?”

“You took a really long time in the shower, Ben.”

It had been a great shower, as any shower would have been after two days without. “Fair.” 

“She actually seems . . . interested in it.” Rey was fighting a laugh. “I was sort of surprised. I thought she’d try to talk me out of it.”

Ben did little to hide the displeasure in his face. “Well. The script’s done. And I don’t think we should really be opening this up to just whoever wants to come on board.”

“Oh, no, I mean, she doesn’t want to _be_ in it with us,” Rey said. “But, and this was the thing I wanted to run by you, she asked if we wouldn’t mind her being on set?”

“Why?”

Her eyes narrowed and there was definitely a grin tugging at her mouth. “She didn’t come out and say it, but I think she really wants to watch us filming? Her exact words were, ‘Ooh, can I come be the person who does the clapper?’ But I think that’s just an excuse.”

So apparently Rose was a little more interesting than her stolid and sometimes prickly demeanor suggested.

“Uh. I don’t . . . if she _wants_ to, I guess we could—” His phone vibrated, making him jump. Hastily, he pulled up the new messages.

_The video?_  
_You mean an “adult video”?_

Ben snickered, and felt his nerves ease a little. “Hey, read this.” He held his phone out to Rey.

“Can’t, driving. This turn up here is tricky. What’s it say?”

“He asked if we’re making an ‘adult video’. With quotation marks around it. Very delicate way to put it.” 

“Well, we are adults.” Rey chuckled. “And we are making a video.”

_Yes. It’s a long story._  
_Do you mind?_  
_Please._

_[UNCA is typing . . .]_

Ben tried not to wince. “Okay, here it comes.”

“Crossing my fingers and toes over here,” Rey muttered, distracted by the sharp left-hand turn she was making.

_Definitely interested in hearing this story._

_Is that a yes?_

_Yes. Call me later and we can work out details._  
_Maybe don’t mention this to your mom and dad._

_No shit. Thanks, Unca._

_Language!_

“Well.” Ben sighed heavily and squirmed to slip his phone into his pocket. He didn’t want to look at it again until they were on the way home. “That’s that.”

“Well?” Rey was staring at the road and biting her lip. It was sort of adorable how concerned she looked. It was nice to know at least he wasn’t alone in that. Up until now it was beginning to seem like nothing about this was fazing her.

“Rey.” Ben looked at her seriously and clapped a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We are officially in business.”

She hooted with glee and punched a fist to the ceiling. “Amazing! Ah, did you ever settle on a title? I guess it doesn’t matter yet, but I figured you’d have made a decision by now.”

“Yeah. I did. It’s a surprise. You’ll find out soon enough.”

She smiled brightly. “I’m on the edge of my seat.”

\+ +

“Stop.” That was Hux, from his chair against the wall. Until now, he’d been so engrossed in something on his phone that Rey didn’t think he was even listening. “Did I just hear someone say the title of this thing is ‘ _The Fist Awakens_ ’?”

“Yeah, uh, putting my foot down right now. I’m not fisting anyone, or being fisted,” Finn cut in, leaning back in his seat beside Rey on the sofa and folding his arms across his chest. 

“Hold on.” Rey raised her hand, like she was at an academic lecture rather than her friend’s home. She fixed her eyes on Ben. They needed to get one thing settled before this got out of hand, and truth be told, she was a little confused right now. “Ben. I’ve seen the script. There’s no fisting scene. What the hell is up with this title?”

“Get it right. It’s _The Fist Awakens: Winter is Cumming_ —there’s a subtitle,” Ben clarified to Hux. Then, turning to Rey, he asked evenly, “Is there a problem with it?” She could see it in his eyes: he was finding this entertaining. 

“Well . . . no? I guess.”

“It’s sort of false advertising,” Poe said. He was off on his own a bit, sitting in the corner near a window with his guitar. He had been idly strumming it and picking his way through random chords since they’d all sat down to hash this out. Rey always forgot he played. The background noise was welcome right now, but she hoped he would come join the group when they did a read-through. “People might be slightly disappointed if they go into this expecting a fisting or two and get _no_ fisting.”

“Well, Dameron, that’s the fun part, isn’t it?” Ben was in a mood, then. He’d seemed so much happier toward the end of their car ride, Rey was really hoping it would set the tone for the rest of the day. But being around Poe always set him off, sooner or later. Too bad today he’d chosen sooner. “Life is disappointing. Besides, the subtitle is still true.”

“True.” Poe waved a hand. “Still, it’s a dick move, man.”

Rey pulled a hand through her hair, feeling a little irritated, then tied it back into a ponytail. “Okay, yes, Ben, you’re truly a monster.”

“Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you for that.”

“Great. Can we all just get back on topic?” Rey had not been expecting to run into issues so early in production. _Early in production_ —that gave her a little thrill. It sounded so official. They were really going to do this. She sat up straight and scanned the room. Where had Phasma gone? 

Poe wasn’t finished. “Yeah, no, I’m just gonna call it _Winter is Cumming_.”

“Same.” Phasma emerged from the kitchen with several beers precariously dangling between her fingers. 

The answer was echoed by everyone else in the room but Ben and Rey, who was beginning to think they all should have started drinking an hour or so before trying to go over this. They were already day-drinking; what difference would a slightly earlier start have made? Surreptitiously, she winked at him across the room and gave him an apologetic smile. He looked very annoyed, and she didn’t think it was for show. The title didn’t matter right now. They could figure this out later. 

“ _Okay_ ,” she said, clapping her hands sharply and accepting a bottle as Phasma made the rounds. “Really, we need to get going on this. We can decide on a title any time. It’s supposed to snow today and Ben has work later, so let’s try to finish at a good time?”

Next to her, Finn cleared his throat. “One more thing then, before we do. Motion to enforce a rule that if we get through this and Solo has decided to add in a surprise fisting scene after all, the script will be rewritten to have that scene be _his_. All in favor, say ‘Aye.’”

Instantly, the room was filled with a chorus of hearty _Ayes_. Even Rey joined in, grinning teasingly at Ben, who only rolled his eyes and stared at his beer. 

Poe had set aside his guitar as Phasma walked the room with beers in hand, and was now sitting in the free seat next to Finn. He took a long gulp from his drink as Finn handed him a script, then looked it over nonchalantly, mostly just glancing for his own name.

Rey was itching to read through it; she’d only done a cursory scan of the thing, to see what sorts of things Ben had written in for them. But now, reading through it, she’d know the big picture, what Ben had created. And hey, maybe it wasn’t serious literature like she knew he wanted to do, but it was a first step. It was _something_.

The script opened with Rey—Princess Winter—all alone in an empty room. She wouldn’t know where she was or how she got there, she’d just be hell-bent on escaping after being kidnapped. The movie would then follow the Princess as she tried to find her way home.

On her journey, she would find all sorts of characters who were hooking up. First, she’d encounter the minstrel, Littlefingerer (played by Poe), and the baker, named Creampie (played by Finn), in a little tavern. 

Poe waved his hand around haphazardly, interrupting the read-through. “Wait, so, first of all, I wanna clarify that Finn and I aren’t dating. Because you all seem to forget that,” Poe said, Finn nodding very adamantly at his side. “Second—are we using my guitar for this scene?”

“I was thinking we would, yes,” Ben replied dryly.

A smile played on Poe’s lips and he nodded, mulling the idea over. “Good. Good.” He looked up at Ben, pointing to him as he said, “I like that. Good thinking.” Ben rolled his eyes. Why wouldn’t he use Poe’s hobby to his advantage?

“Does he get to sing a song?” Finn asked.

“Yeah, you want me to write a song for it?” Poe echoed.

Rey glanced across the room at Ben, who sat in an oversized fluffy armchair, glaring at the men on the sofa with Rey. Leave it to Poe to find a way to get under Ben’s skin during a script read-through for a _porno_. “No,” Ben replied. “You just have a guitar there. It turns him on.”

“But it doesn’t,” Finn argued.

With much disdain, Ben reminded Finn, “It’s a _story_.”

The room quieted, then tension palpable. Rey watched in silence as the group waited for someone to say something, to figure out how to continue. Finally, Poe broke the silence. 

“So, am I writing a song or not?”

Ben narrowed his eyes in a heavy glare, but Poe didn’t pick up on it. Rey had half a mind to tell Poe to quit while he was ahead, but she was a firm believer in these boys getting over themselves and just being friends. They were never going to get rid of each other—they all cared about _her_ too much. 

“You know what?” Poe declared after a steady stare-down with Ben. “I don’t care if you want me to or not. I’m going to write a song. Maybe two.” His eyes lit up. “Maybe a whole soundtrack, even. We need sound, right?”

“Nobody cares about the _music_ ,” Hux reminded Poe. He still sat off to the side, phone in hand, looking vaguely disinterested. “They’ll be watching for the _fucking_.”

“Nobody asked you, Fux,” Poe snapped.

Phasma sported a rather smug smirk as she said, “You’re both wrong. They’ll be watching for the fisting that they’ll never get.”

“Okay guys,” Rey interrupted, sensing Ben’s frustration from across the room now. She knew that the slight teasing was getting under his skin. He wasn’t exactly taught how to write porn in college—this was new territory for Ben, and it was time to stop mocking. “We _need_ to finish this read-through so I can get Ben to work. Keep going.”

Rey read on, blushing a little at the realization of the voyeuristic element of the film, how she’d be watching all these other people have sex. The theme of the movie seemed to be Princess Winter’s sexual awakening. Except the princess still hadn’t had sex, or even any _foreplay_ , by halfway through the script.

The group quibbled over Phasma’s scene partner: Ben hadn’t concretely cast the part yet, saying casually that either Finn or Hux would share the scene with her. Phasma would be the brave knight, Brienne of Tarth, sent on a mission to find Princess Winter and deliver her safely back home.

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Hux again. He looked at Ben. “Why do all the other characters have far more explicit names than their _Game of Thrones_ counterparts, but Brienne’s name stays exactly the same? Isn’t that a copyright violation?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “First of all, this is a parody, so it can’t be construed as copyright infringement . . . maybe,” he clarified. He was fuzzy on the specifics of fair use laws. “Second of all, Brienne of Tarth is arguably the greatest character in the series, and to mar her name like that would be probably the biggest crime of this goddamn porn parody.”

Rey watched Ben curiously; she’d always been fascinated by his strange love of that character. Hux, however, was snickering in a way that said he knew exactly why Ben liked her. “Ah, so you like her because she’s tall, strong, and bossy,” Hux observed. “Things you probably look for in a partner.” He glanced at Rey. “But let’s be honest, you probably like her because she pines after royalty that she believes she cannot have.” 

Nobody in the room spoke for a moment, all eyes glancing from Hux, to Ben, to Rey. Rey cleared her throat and said, “Alright, well, I think this means Hux has volunteered himself to be Phasma’s scene partner. So Hux, you’re cast as Squire Peg, and you get to have sex with Phasma.” 

Poe burst out into loud, raucous laughter. “Holy shit! She’s gonna peg him!” he exclaimed with much amusement. “Alright, Ben, that’s genius. You should get an Oscar for that.”

“Poe, that’s enough,” Rey warned. When she looked down at the script, she couldn’t stop the question that had been pressing at her mind. They were over halfway through the script now, and she needed to ask. “Ben?” she spoke hesitantly. “I noticed that so far, my character is here, but she’s not doing anything. Why not?”

“She needs her awakening,” Ben replied matter-of-factly. “She must learn before she can truly do.”

Poe snorted. “She needs to learn by being touched, not paraded through a forest watching others get off,” he argued. “Besides, isn’t your subtitle or whatever _Winter is Cumming?_ So that means Rey— _Princess Winter_ —needs to come.”

Rey’s cheeks turned red, but she looked up at Ben and said, “We could probably add a scene somewhere. Maybe not full-on sex, but heavy petting or foreplay or something. Because she’s curious.” She hoped he’d heed her suggestion; she wasn’t a delicate flower that needed protecting. She knew everyone in the group and would quite frankly fuck any of them for this film, as well—even Phasma.

“I’d do a scene with Rey,” Finn said casually.

“See?” Rey perked up, a smile on her face.

Hux made a strangled sort of noise from where he sat watching the group with disdain. “Of course _you_ would,” he taunted. “You’ve wanted to fuck Rey since we were teenagers.”

“I haven’t!” protested Finn. He sat up straighter, eyes a bit wild, prepared to defend himself. Rey and Poe both extended their hands to him, calming him. He relaxed once he had Poe’s arm at his shoulders, and Rey’s hand resting gently on his thigh. Finn narrowed his eyes as he glared at Hux for insinuating something like that.

“We’re just friends, Hux,” Rey reminded him. She looked at Ben. “I’d be fine with a scene like that. Somewhere in the forest.”

“Just have them do oral. Sixty-nine or something.” Poe was thumbing through the script. “It doesn’t look like there’s much of that, so this would be the place to do it.”

Phasma’s grin returned. “And since I’m with Rey at this point in the story, protecting her on her journey, I can join in.”

“Perfect.” Hux grinned.

Poe full-on laughed as everyone else snickered at the thought of Phasma and Finn in a scene together. The two were far too competitive to ever work all that well together. Ben looked angrily between the room full of people, mulling it over.

In the end, he only agreed because Rey looked so earnest about it all, an eager smile on her face. He wondered if she wanted to sleep with Finn just as badly as Finn wanted to sleep with her. 

“I have one condition,” Ben said as he scribbled notes down on his script. “If Phasma and Finn are going to get Rey off, then it’s going to be a competition.” The room went quiet. Ben looked between Phasma and Finn. “It’s what you two do best. So you’re going to compete to see who can make Rey come harder.”

“And it will obviously be me,” Phasma said with a grin.

“I’ve slept with a girl before!” Finn argued. “I can do it.”

Poe chuckled. “Finn, buddy, I love you, but a drunken hookup with Rose doesn’t exactly make you an expert.”

“What did I tell you?” Ben said, pleased. “It will work. They’re already turning it into a competition and we haven’t even finished the read-through.”

“Alright, back to the script everyone.” Rey was keeping a close eye on the clock to make sure that they had enough time to drive Ben to work. Snowflakes were starting to fall outside, and the Buick didn’t exactly handle well in more than an inch or so of snow.

Ben took notes on the added scene—though he wasn’t happy about it—and then they continued on. After finding Phasma and Hux and witnessing their scene, the princess would then be in the scene with her knight and the baker—Phasma and Finn. Then finally, she’d find her way home, where the Cuntslayer—the villainous knight played by Ben— would be waiting for her. The princess had walked into a trap, and she’d be at his mercy.

“It’s staying consensual though, right?” Finn interjected abruptly.

“If it’s an interrogation scene, then perhaps not,” Hux added.

“I think it’s fine,” Rey said, coming to Ben’s defense. “It says here that the Cuntslayer has her locked up in an interrogation room, but that he releases her from the restraints before the sex starts. So really, the princess could kick his ass or run away if she wanted.” She looked up at Ben. “She’ll choose to stay because of who he is.”

“The man behind the mask?” Poe asked. “Because it’s weird, fucking anyone while they’re wearing a mask, isn’t it?”

“For being so open-minded about sex, that’s rather judgmental of you,” Phasma shot back at Poe. “Brienne could wear a mask in my scene, right? Something pretty. Chrome?”

“I don’t have a chrome mask, so no. Not unless you’re buying one yourself.” Ben told Phasma flatly. He turned to Poe and said, “The princess consents to everything. And the mask stays on. It’s a metaphor.”

Hux, for all his looks of disinterest and boredom, seemed as though he were genuinely listening to the entire plot and invested in the logistics of it. “A metaphor for what?” he challenged Ben. “If the princess is going to have her awakening at the end of this, at least make it _good_ for her. Let her take off the mask.”

“Yeah, have the whole _man behind the mask_ thing, like Poe said,” Finn suggested. “It’d be way more effective that way. You need to convince the audience that it’s okay for the good guy and the bad guy to get together.”

Rey smiled at Ben, hoping to soften the blow as she agreed with their friends and their critique of his writing. “They make a good point,” she said. “Let the audience know that your character is much more than just a creature in a mask.” Her smile grew a little as she said, “Besides. If this is my only full-on sex scene, I want to be able to kiss. And I refuse to kiss a _mask_.”

Ben looked exasperated, but rolled his eyes because dammit to hell, he couldn’t say no to Rey. Not when it was a sex scene that involved her, and would probably mean a great deal to her. “Fine. They’ll have a conversation before it starts that somehow involves the mask coming off,” Ben conceded.

“Great!” Rey cheered. She was glad that, for the most part, everyone seemed okay with the script. Plus, they still had plenty of time to get back across town for Ben.

“How are we funding this?”

Hux’s question killed the excited mood right away. Rey looked up at Ben, who pointedly avoided everyone’s eyes. He packed his pens and script up, stuffing them in his worn leather satchel as he explained, “We have someone to pay for it. Nothing to worry about, Hux.”

“With you, I worry,” Hux replied bluntly. Ben looked up at him with a dangerous glare. 

“Is it Lando? Please tell me it’s Lando,” Poe said with amusement.

Poe stood from the couch, tossing his script aside to go back to the window where his guitar was perched on its stand. He picked it up and strummed out a few chords, glancing back up at Ben as he did.

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Ben replied.

Rey wondered if she should tell Ben that those first few texts to Lando were heavily influenced by Poe, when Ben was drunk at the reunion. She didn’t, instead deciding to change the subject entirely. “Also, how do we feel about having someone else on set?” she asked as she gathered up the now-empty beer bottles from their read-through. “It’s just Rose, and she mostly wants to use the clapboard, but it might be nice to have someone detached from the project there to tell us if things are working.”

“It’s a porno,” Hux reminded Rey. He stood from his chair and fastened the button at the front of his suit again. He looked like he had to get back to the office; either that, or he just liked to parade in front of them wearing his expensive suits. Or perhaps it was a combination of the two. “Nobody cares if things are _working_. They want to see tits, and they want to watch people fuck.”

“So that’s a yes, then?” Rey asked, brushing off Hux’s critical tone like it was nothing.

The group halfheartedly assented, mostly because they didn’t care. At this point, what was one more person in the room when the rest of the cast would already be watching? 

“Ben and I are going to go, then,” Rey said. It was a solid twenty minute drive back to where they lived—in _good_ weather, never mind this snow—so they should get going. “We’ll get the money and find a place to shoot this, and . . . I think we can get started by next week,” she said. She was confident and in charge, and looked like she was proud to take on a directorial role. “I’ll text you all a schedule when we know more. In the meantime—maybe stock up on condoms and whatever toys you want?”

“We have to provide the condoms!?” Poe mocked incredulously. He laughed as he said it, and Rey knew he was joking.

In all seriousness, Hux said, “It’s a little tacky, but I suppose it’s the least we can do.”

“The least _you_ can do,” Finn clarified. He knew full well Hux had the money to fund this, he just didn’t feel like it.

“Yeah,” Phasma added, siding with Finn for once. “I have a feeling you might want to be in control of what size toy I use to fuck you.”

Hux glowered.

Annoyed with the conversation, Hux was the first to leave. He sped away in his sleek black SUV, tires not slipping in the slightest on the icy roads. Rey watched him with envy as Ben started the car and swept off the dusting of snow for her. The heaters didn’t work well, so he scraped hard at the ice that had collected on the windows, trying to make the thing driveable. When the car was ready, he let Rey drive, because he had script edits to make. If he wrote them down, Rey could type them up at the coffee shop. The sooner they got this going, the better, because December’s rent was due soon, and he didn’t yet know how they were going to pay it.

\+ +

Rey was glad they’d gone to Finn and Poe’s place prepared with all their things, because it was especially cold outside that afternoon and she felt selfish burning all that fuel for heat when she’d be the only one home. Instead, Rey set up camp at First Order Coffee Co., prepared to spend Ben’s entire shift there, doing things for the movie, or just cleaning herself up. 

He’d offered to wash her hair in the big sink in the back, because if they couldn’t shower, they should at least wash their hair, and Rey’s was getting disgustingly greasy. They’d have to wait until it was a little less busy, and until Mitaka left for the day, so Rey settled in at the table near the counter where Ben was passing out drinks and opened up his laptop.

Rey typed in his password and opened the document that contained the script. This was a huge step in their relationship, Ben trusting Rey to fiddle around with his writing. He was usually very protective of it, but he understood that time was of the essence. Besides, Rey had promised to ask him how to spell anything that the program underlined in red (“Spell check is not always reliable—you ask _me_ , not the _machine_ ,” he’d said.). All she had to do was input the edits he’d scribbled down on the printed script on their way to the coffee shop.

It didn’t take long before Rey’s eyes started to droop—she’d always found writing to be rather tedious. Besides, they hadn’t been sleeping well ever since the power was shut off. It was far too cold to get a good night’s sleep, even with their little heater. Ben wanted to slide Rey a cup of coffee but knew Mitaka would likely have a conniption, so he stealthily dug through one of the refrigerators and pulled out a thermometer. He stuck it in his pocket and then made as if to set about the task of taking refrigerator temperatures for the store. 

“Mitaka?” Ben asked. “Where’d the thermometer for the milk fridge go?”

He’d been the person in charge when afternoon temps were taken, so he would have had to check it. “It’s right there,” said Mitaka, bustling over to the fridge to prove that he hadn’t screwed anything up.

Ben stood, watching, as Mitaka rifled endlessly through the fridge. “Well . . . I guess we’ll just need to find another,” he said eventually. “If you weren’t so rough with the gallons of milk, throwing them around like you do, then maybe the thermometer would stay in place!”

With a look of indifference, Ben waited for Mitaka to bustle to the back room to look for a new thermometer. He already knew he wouldn’t find one; they’d run out of spares about two weeks ago and the new ones hadn’t come in yet. But Mitaka would scour the back room anyway, which meant Ben had plenty of time to give Rey a free pick-me-up.

“Hey.”

Rey sat at the table by his laptop, chin propped up on one hand, her eyes half-closed as she read over the script again. She looked exhausted. At the sound of Ben’s voice, she looked up quizzically.

“What do you want?” he asked vaguely, gesturing to the espresso machine.

Rey yawned, closing the lid of the laptop for a minute to look over the menu. “Umm . . . mocha?”

“How many shots do you want in it?” 

He didn’t usually treat Rey to something quite so nice, but she was working so hard to fix their situation. The least he could do was slip her free coffee behind Mitaka’s back. They still had a lot to get ready before they could start filming this thing, and they _really_ needed to get money for it, as soon as possible.

Ben started to make her drink, noticing out of the corner of his eye when Rey stood up and walked towards the counter. She watched him, thinking about everything he’d done for her in the last few days. He’d picked up extra hours at the coffee shop if he could find them, and he’d set aside his pride to ask Lando for the money. Now he’d written something he probably didn’t want to own up to, because it was cheesy and for a _porno_ , and he was stealing from work to get Rey through the rest of the evening.

“Take what you want. Mitaka will never know,” Ben said, noticing that Rey was eyeing up the nearly-expired scones in the pastry case.

They weren’t going to expire, not really. The store just had a strict policy on freshness, and anything in the case more than a day was _not_ fresh and therefore not fit to sell to their customers. As Ben put the finishing touches on Rey’s mocha—which he’d put three shots of espresso in for her—he watched her take a scone from the case. “You’re going to want another one, so take it now before he gets back.”

Rey looked affronted for a moment, but Ben shook his head. “You’re starving and you know it. All you’ve had today is beer and that sandwich Finn made you take before we left,” he said. “Take two scones.” Rey opened her mouth to protest but Ben cut her off. “Just take them.”

They’d pay the store back eventually. Ben constantly worked so hard, mostly just for the paycheck, but he was quite frankly one of the best employees. He was allowed to take a few extra pieces of food to make sure his roommate didn’t starve before their next paycheck.

Mitaka returned several minutes later looking positively irate, but Ben shrugged it off. “I found it. The thing was stuffed in the back of the fridge. No big deal,” he said to Mitaka. “Now, aren’t you supposed to go home?”

Mitaka eyed Ben with suspicion, like he was catching on that there was something up. He must not have cared enough to pursue it though, because he didn’t say another word as he clocked out and gathered his things.

Once Mitaka left, the store quieted significantly. With fifteen minutes until the official closing time, Ben locked the doors and closed the till. He shut off the lights in the front of the store and led Rey into the back. He grabbed the desk chair and set it up by the sink, a cloth over the rim so Rey’s neck wouldn’t hurt. It was a crude version of those salon chairs, but it’d do the trick.

Ben lowered the water pressure on the spray nozzle, and then Rey took a seat. Rey tried to pretend she was at a real salon, that her life hadn’t become what it had. She’d always dreamed of being better off than her parents and grandparents had been before they’d passed away.

The foster system hadn't been any kinder, but meeting Finn had made all the hardship worth it. Finn had been abandoned as a baby at a church nearby and grew up only thinking of Rey as his family. He was her best friend, with her through every hardship. Together they’d navigated the dreaded teenage years and prepared for their big, bright futures. 

When she’d turned eighteen, Rey set out on her own, doing everything she could to earn scholarships so she could get her engineering degree. But she had been too young to succeed without support, and she’d ended up losing her scholarship and having to drop out because paying the bills and getting good grades was incredibly difficult to do simultaneously and alone. And now she was sitting in the back of a coffee shop getting her hair washed in a sink meant for carafes and steaming pitchers. 

Rey had to take a deep breath and remind herself that she was going to make something of herself. That it wasn’t too late for her. She had Ben—all of her friends, really—and they were going to help Rey out of this shitty situation.

“Rey . . .”

When she opened her eyes, she saw Ben looking down at her in confusion. “What?” she asked.

“You’re crying.”

Rey blinked. She brought her hands to her cheeks; they were wet. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, so relaxed under Ben’s touch as he washed her hair. She hadn’t realized. “I’m fine,” she said. She took another deep breath. “We’re going to be fine.” She plastered an obviously fake smile on her face and asked, “Is my hair done yet?”

Ben frowned, but could tell that Rey didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t feel like pressing the issue, either. This whole situation was exhausting for both of them.

“Almost.”

He washed the rest of the conditioner out of her hair and then handed her the towel they’d brought from home. Rey wrapped her hair in it, dabbing a corner of the towel at her face.

“It’s going to be okay, you know,” Ben said softly, as he pulled on his winter jacket.

Rey glanced over her shoulder, surprised at his declaration. Slowly, Rey nodded. “I know.”

“Good,” he replied. “Good.”

\+ +

Rey went back to Solo Auto the next morning, putting on a brave face when Han asked how things were going for them. He’d offered to come fix the leaky sink he’d noticed in their kitchen last time he’d been over, but Rey insisted they were fine and that she could figure it out.

It was getting harder and harder to come up with excuses not to have him over—aside from the fact that Ben had distanced himself from his parents over the years. Han was still stubborn as ever, insistent that he could get Ben to visit home more often.

While Rey was at work, Ben spent the day putting together costumes for the characters and exchanging text messages with Lando. By the time Rey came home around four, he had most of it ready to go. There were garment bags laid over most of the furniture, and the heater wasn’t running. “Ben,” Rey whined as soon as she walked in. “It’s _freezing_. Why is there no heat!?”

“Guess what else costs money?” he asked sarcastically. “ _Kerosene_.”

Rey narrowed her eyes at him indignantly. “Shit. I didn’t realize we were low. Why didn’t you text to tell me to pick some up on the way home?” she argued. She didn’t dare suggest she could just have asked Han for more; Ben would only find it insulting.

“It doesn’t matter right now, because we’re going to need to go out anyway,” Ben said. “I was putting together costumes and realized we don’t have anything for you.”

Rey frowned. “Why not?”

“I don’t wear a dress when I LARP and yours is the only character who needs one,” he explained. “We can go thrifting. I’m sure there’s a lot of good stuff now that Halloween is over.”

Rey put her hands on her hips and suppressed a shiver. “That requires money.”

Ben shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He held it out, shaking it a little in his fingers, as he said, “Lando sent me the money. Did you know there’s an app for that?”

“I’m more shocked that _he_ knew.” Rey repiled.

“Well . . . yeah. I guess. I had to download it, he already had it.”

Rey snorted. “ _That_ doesn’t surprise me.”

“Listen, just keep your coat on, we’re going to go to the thrift store and find you a dress,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “We’ll grab some kerosene and a few groceries and then put the rest aside for the movie.”

“But didn’t you tell him the loan was just for the movie?” Rey asked as they walked out the door of their apartment. Ben carefully locked it behind him, protecting the costumes he’d invested so much money in.

Ben nodded his assent. “I did. But I’d rather not live off of day-old pastries. Not when I’ve got a scene coming up where I’ll need to be naked.”

“You don’t eat enough calories in a day to gain any weight from those pastries,” Rey argued.

“We need real food,” Ben looked at Rey sternly as he got into the driver’s seat of the Buick. “And you need a costume.”

Rey plopped into the passenger’s seat, sending a chunk of ice hanging from the side of the car flying onto the pavement with a _clink!_ Rey looked over at it, and then back up at Ben. She felt about as cold as the icicle probably was—and the car was no warmer, even after Rey drove it all the way home from work.

She spent every free moment she had trying to fix the heater, but it was about time they faced it. They had no heat in their apartment, and now the heat was out in their car, too. The fact that she was fully capable of doing the job herself but didn't have the money to buy the replacement parts was driving her nuts. And she couldn’t ask Han for a good deal on them because she didn’t want him to worry about them any more than he already did. Most importantly, she didn’t want to be a bother. She’d snuck enough peeks at the books to know that Han should have laid her off years ago.

The thrift store was beautifully, wonderfully warm, and Rey rubbed her hands together to soak up as much of the warmth as she could. Ben moved through the store with determined purpose, only stopping when they reached the tall rack in the women’s department full of different kinds of dresses. Rey nearly sprinted to keep up with Ben’s long strides. When she reached him, she found it a little amusing, the careful attention he paid to each dress as he scrutinized them, to see if they would be the best choice for Rey’s character. 

“Most of these aren’t my size,” Rey reminded him.

“Does that matter? You already offered to alter my costumes, and I’ve seen your sewing stuff around the apartment. You’re good at it. Why is this any different?”

He wasn’t wrong. Rey was just in a mood to argue. She pressed her lips together. She didn’t like what the stress of all this was doing to her. “What if it’s too small?”

Ben stopped rifling through the dresses to look boredly at Rey. “Stupid question. You’re tiny.”

Indignantly, Rey grabbed a dress off the rack. “This wouldn’t fit me!” she said, shoving a dress at him.

He looked down his nose at the dress, raising an eyebrow at her. “No, you’re right, but it also doesn’t suit your character,” he replied.

Rey rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ll let you choose, then, and I’m going to go look at—”

“Here,” Ben handed her a dress. It was powder blue, simple but elegant. Paired with a couple of the chains he had in his closet—for LARP, not for sex, thank you very much—it might work. He rifled through the dresses some more, ignoring Rey’s indignance completely. “Alright, four dresses. That’s better than I expected. Now let’s go.”

“I only need one,” she argued.

“Not to _buy_. To try on.” He looked at her like she was missing the point. Perhaps she was. “I think a few of these are even your size, which would save us a lot of trouble.”

Rey sighed; just a few short days ago, Ben had very begrudgingly helped her choose an outfit for their reunion. Now, he was forcing her to do the very same thing—try on a bunch of clothes so he could choose the best option. That’s just how quickly things had changed for them, apparently.

She was a good sport about it, in the end. He was really trying to put together something that would sell, that would make them enough money to get out of the situation they were in. Rey tried on an abandoned wedding dress, something strapless and silky, but the layers got in the way and it wouldn’t stay up. That wasn’t actually a detractor—people would be watching to see her tits anyway—but the fact that she couldn’t walk in it didn’t bode well.

She tried on a yellow dress, which was promising, and a brown thing with a zipper that wouldn’t reach over her ass. She had disliked that one the most, vehemently protesting the entire time Ben tried to zip it up that her ass wasn’t fat, and this dress was insulting.

He bit his tongue; Rey had a perfectly fine ass, if he was being honest. But that was probably the last thing she needed to hear as she seethed in frustration, almost kicking the dress off before the door to the dressing room door was even closed again. 

As soon as she emerged in the powder blue dress, Ben knew they’d found the one. It fit her like a glove, perfectly hugging her curves from head to toe. It even looked like it could be a dress in _Game of Thrones_ , the show he’d shamelessly knocked off their porno characters from. It fell perfectly by her feet, the fabric brushing the floor as she walked. It was a silken material, something Rey couldn’t stop playing with as she stood in front of Ben, watching him stare. Sheepishly, she prompted, “Well?”

“That’s the one. It’s perfect,” he nodded. He was trying so hard not to look overly excited at how easy it was to find this dress, or how beautiful Rey looked in it.

“Yeah?” she asked, her whole face lighting up. She did a little twirl in it. “I feel pretty in this.”

“That’s good,” he said, forcing his eyes to look away from her body and back up into her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed red. “You should, given—what we’re going to do,” he finished awkwardly.

Rey nodded. She licked her lips and glanced down at the dress one more time before she turned back towards the dressing rooms. She closed the door and stood for a moment, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She turned to one side, analyzing her figure, how she looked in this dress. She felt like a princess. Her character was meant to be a princess. 

It almost felt like a Cinderella story, but for grownups. Dress up all pretty, do something risky, and hope that in the end, you’ve improved your situation in life.

Rey kept a smile on her face as they paid for the dress and bought a few groceries. They managed to find some more meat in the clearance section of the grocery store, but before they bought it, she reminded Ben, “We have no way to cook that.”

With a heavy sigh, he put it back. Instead, they doubled back to the deli where they found an already-cooked rotisserie chicken. Rey grabbed a bag of fruit, and she spotted some bruised bananas in a bargain bin, and he carefully selected a few bags of off-brand potato chips for them. She looked away as Ben paid for the food, biting her tongue to keep from asking how much money Lando _actually_ gave them, and if they’d spent too much.

She trusted Ben. She was going to have sex with Ben. This was just what their lives were now, and all Rey could do was hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist for this chapter can be found over at [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1?si=XdnNmMWOQPKEBKsGPpGwAg)!  
> 
>
>> **Chapter 4 // The Fist is Coming**  
>  Love Today - MIKA  
> Hotline Bling - Drake  
> Masseduction - St. Vincent  
> Green, Green Rocky Road - Oscar Isaac  
> You Earned the Right to Be a Dick - Sparks  
> Rag and Bone - The White Stripes  
> 


	5. White Zinfandel is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though they aren't close, Ben and Finn embark on a mission to find a filming location and fix it up. Rey hopes they'll bond, Ben hopes they won't kill each other. Then, in a bid for warmth and electricity which their apartment no longer provides, they pay a visit to Rey's old college friend Rose.
> 
> \-- No, Ben, that's not what "Netflix and chill" means.
> 
> When disaster strikes, the team needs to come together to figure out an alternative, and Ben really needs to learn to keep his temper in check before he breaks himself or something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you _so, so much_ to our wonderful betas Tia (reyloscum) and Dot (leofgyth) for their hard work.

“To be clear, how sure are you this guy isn’t going to just show up, murder us, take our money, and leave our bodies for the wolves?”

Ben ground his teeth, then reminded himself that Finn probably had a fair point. It was Wednesday morning. Officially, this plan had now been in the works for a week, and he was admittedly _finally_ feeling accustomed to it. Some of that probably had to do with how relatively well all the pieces were falling into place. Except for that whole issue of still lacking utilities, as well as adopting increasingly strange dietary habits. He didn’t care what Rey said—he could _feel_ his body rebelling, threatening to turn any muscle he had into fat. That wasn’t how things worked at all, but given his luck of late, he wouldn’t rule it out.

So he also wouldn’t rule out Finn’s suggestion that the two of them might well be murdered within the hour. (Would that really be so bad?)

“I can’t promise that,” he said, half serious. “More likely to be coyotes than wolves, though.”

“Oh. That’s great. Comforting.” Finn kicked a stone, and it flew off into a clump of bushes, startling several birds into flight.

They’d pulled the Buick off the road and parked it next to a dilapidated cabin at the edge of a small wooded area. Several windows had been graffitied, but at least none of them were broken. There were some overturned picnic tables and benches a short way off, mostly overgrown with weeds. Aside from the winding sideroads they’d taken to get here, there was little to suggest anyone even knew it existed. Following a lead from a LARP acquaintance, Ben had gotten in touch with a man who went by the name “D.J.” yesterday afternoon regarding renting the space for a week. The fact that D.J. hadn’t even asked what they needed the building for ought to have been telling.

When Rey suggested Ben take Finn with him for the sake of company (or “bonding,” to use her word, as if making this movie with Finn wasn’t implicitly enough of a bonding experience), he’d been a little irritated but followed through on it. If nothing else, having the extra pair of hands might be good if the place needed cleaning up before they could use it. Now, he was also thinking that maybe Rey thought he might need backup—or a witness—should this indeed turn out to be as seedy as it felt.

He and Finn waited a few more minutes, making excruciating small talk and circling the cabin appraisingly. Finn tried the door, which by some miracle was intact, but also padlocked. They’d just have to hope this D.J. guy actually had the keys. The sound of a vehicle approaching down the road brought them back to the Buick, where they leaned on the trunk and, shortly after, spotted a silver sports car flying their way at what could only be considered a reckless speed given the state of the road and the likelihood of black ice. It pulled up beside them. When the engine cut the silence they were left with was eerie and ominous. A man emerged.

He couldn’t have looked less like he belonged in the car if he tried. He was tall, but had horrendous posture that gave the impression he was slinking everywhere. His face was scruffy with a patchy beard, and his dark hair was in disorder beneath a pair of hideous fuzzy earmuffs. It was difficult to determine his build, as he was bundled in an oversized camouflage-print coat, hanging open to reveal a hooded sweatshirt and what appeared to be a flak jacket. His face was distinctive, and Ben didn’t like the way his beady eyes roamed briefly over both him and Finn, nor the way his thin mouth curved into a sly grin just after. Maybe they did have to worry about wolves after all.

“You B-Ben?” D.J. extended a hand covered in a threadbare fingerless glove.

“Yeah.” Ben reluctantly accepted the handshake. “Yes, Ben. This is Finn.”

“Nice to meet you,” Finn added as D.J. shook his hand as well. Ben detected a hint of doubt there. 

“Nice, nice, yeah,” D.J. said. His hands dropped to his side and he spun to face the cabin. “So you f-f-fellas wanna look inside?”

Ben and Finn exchanged a look. When Finn shrugged, Ben said, “Sure.”

He was a little surprised when D.J. produced the actual key to the padlock, rather than a crowbar or saw. Their tour of the building was brief, but thorough enough that Ben felt okay about the money it was costing them, which was a little more than he’d have liked but still not bad given the pinch they were in. D.J. was a man of few words and only offered information when Ben or Finn asked a specific question. In the end, they determined it would do, handed D.J. the cash, and watched as he drove off in his bizarrely luxurious car.

“You kind of feel like you need a bath after talking to him? Or is it just me?” Finn asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Definitely not just you.” He considered quipping that a bath was something he couldn’t really get his heart set on right now, but opted not to. It sounded too much like a bid for sympathy. “Let’s get it cleaned up in there a little. Didn’t actually look like it needed a whole lot done.”

“That was unexpected,” Finn said as they popped the trunk and gathered the supplies they’d brought—broom, mop and bucket, dustpan, some rags, and various sprays and cleaning products. “It’s probably just been sealed up.”

Or someone had used it fairly recently. For what, Ben didn’t care to speculate. As they cleaned, he found himself feeling increasingly grateful to have Finn along, and it wasn’t just because it cut the work in half. The time seemed to go by a little more quickly with someone to talk to—not that anyone would ever accuse Ben of being chatty. But Finn was gregarious in a way that didn’t feel prying or particularly annoying. Ben strongly suspected that he would just go on talking to himself for the sake of the noise if he were suddenly left to it alone.

They were getting a few final things done in the last room, where several grimy windows and a dust-covered mirror demanded attention, when Finn broached a new topic. “Hey, so I gotta ask—are you sort of . . . weirded out about this thing?”

“What thing?” Ben knew what Finn was asking him about, but he didn’t feel like answering.

“The movie. With . . .” Finn debated something. “Everyone. I know you wrote it, but you don’t seem to be having much fun with it.”

“Weirded out?” He still didn’t feel like answering. “You mean like nervous? Why, are you?” 

Ben thought, aside from himself, that Finn had been the only other person who seemed to express any kind of reservations about this plan so far. Even Hux, for all his sneering, had never suggested he was reluctant to be involved. Until now, it hadn’t occurred to Ben that Finn’s reaction was sort of relatable and almost made him feel better about it. Ben was fully on-board, but nerves were normal, even if no one else seemed to be acknowledging it.

“Not _nervous_ ,” Finn clarified, frowning seriously at the mirror he was wiping down. That thing would probably come in handy for some scene. Ben would have to figure that one out. “It just seems a little surreal? Listen, I don’t think it’s any secret Poe and I’ve sort of been messing around since we moved in together.”

“Well if it was, you just ended that, I guess,” Ben said with a dry smile. It wasn’t any of his business, and quite frankly he didn’t care what Finn did or didn’t do with his roommate.

“Right.” Finn’s tone was a little sour to match Ben’s sarcasm, but he shrugged. “Anyway, so that’s not a problem, I guess it’s more that everyone’ll just . . . be there watching? While we record it? And then with Rey.”

Ben’s stomach felt odd for a moment, like he’d just swallowed something hot. “I thought that would’ve been your dream scenario.”

Finn sighed loudly, clearly aggravated. “Look, I know you don’t believe it from her, and you refuse to believe it from me, but it’s not like that with us. I’m pretty sure we were each other’s first kiss when we were like, twelve or something, but that’s about as hot and heavy as we’ve ever been. That ship’s sailed.”

That was new. Ben couldn’t recall ever actually seeing Finn be so forceful about this, but maybe that was only because he’d never taken him seriously. That was Ben’s own problem, not Finn’s. An issue of perception.

“Anyway,” Finn went on, “once she started talking about how she thought you two were really getting to be friends—I dunno, I guess that must have been around the time you moved in together? Or when she started working for your dad?”

Ben was familiar with his own history with Rey; he didn’t need a lesson from Finn. “What’s your point?”

“My point is, when you two weren’t at each other’s throats anymore like you were in high school, and then I saw how good you are for each other, I was always surprised you two never ended up . . .” He shrugged again and grabbed a fresh rag for the mirror.

“Ended up?”

“Dating. Or at least hooking up. You seriously never have? To like cut the tension, or whatever?”

“No.” The window Ben was cleaning squeaked loudly. “Why does everyone keep assuming that?”

“Probably the same reason you keep assuming I wanna sleep with her “

Shit. Ben frowned, not liking that Finn had gotten one up on him. “Touché.” He took a step back and examined the window. It was good enough. “And there’s no tension to cut, so it’s a moot point. What we do for the movie is what it is.”

“I'm sure it'll be fun,” Finn said. He didn’t sound convinced by Ben’s response, but he wasn’t usually the type to seek out conflict, so he didn’t press the issue. “Kind of funny to see her looking forward to it so much. Guess we should be flattered, huh?”

Ben made a disinterested sound. “Guess so.”

“Anyway, I don't know how she and I are going to get through our scene without laughing, if you want the truth.”

“Laughing? It's not supposed to be funny. It's supposed to be erotic.”

“Yeah, well. You wrote it. Between her and me and Phasma . . .” Finn chuckled and shook his head. “We’ll see how it goes, won’t we.”

  
\+ +

Just now, Rey was only focused on two things: driving, and trying to convince Ben of her new plan for the evening. He was deliberately being difficult, for reasons he couldn’t identify. After spending most of the day cleaning with Finn, maybe he was just looking to argue over something stupid.

“It’s only for a few hours,” Rey pleaded. Ben was pretty sure she’d said these exact words several times in the course of the last five minutes, during which she had been trying valiantly to get him to join her at Rose’s place for dinner and a movie. Or two. “It’ll be fun. _You’ll_ have fun. I don’t think you’ve been having nearly enough of that lately.”

The prospect of spending a few hours in a place where they’d actually be able to relax, get warm, and enjoy themselves with some real food was tempting. This visit was less of a practical “shower and charge electronics” thing and more of a fun “come eat too much and be a normal person” thing. And Ben liked movies. Some movies. Rey would probably say he was picky or snobbish about them, but he was just particular. She, on the other hand, was able to sit down and find just about anything interesting. On the occasion they attempted to watch anything together at home, it usually ended with Ben doing something else after fifteen minutes while she ate her way through half the snack cabinet by the end of the movie.

“Fun is one of those things that people only tend to have when they have, I don’t know, a functional home. Assurance they’ll still be able to afford to eat and get to work in a few weeks.” 

To remind her of the direness of the situation, he tapped the vents, which were still performing absolutely zero of their intended function. Ben knew he was being an ass, but it was easier than trying to think of a real excuse to just let Rey drop him off at home and head off for her night out (or in). Naturally, if he did convince her to do that, he would be miserable the moment he locked the door behind him. He’d miss her presence and conversation, even if it was just talking about stupid stuff until one or both of them nodded off. And if nothing else, he needed her body heat. 

“We’re still allowed to have fun. I’d argue that it’s advisable, given how shitty everything else is,” Rey replied, actually sounding a little nettled. “And stop being so pessimistic. We’re fixing the problem. We’ll be back to normal soon.”

“That’s fine for you,” he said. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t. Go have your . . . Netflix and chill girls’ night or whatever it is with Rose. Stay over, if you want. You’ll be more comfortable. We don’t need to meet everyone for fitting tomorrow until noon anyway. There’ll be plenty of time for you to come back around to pick me up.”

“Yeah, and discover that you’ve frozen to death in the night? Forget it.” Rey reached forward awkwardly to wipe some steam from the windshield. Without heat, they also had no defroster, and every few minutes the windows started to fog up to a point that verged on dangerous. He thought her hands looked unusually huge, until it occurred to him that she’d layered gloves under her mittens. “Also, Rose and I aren’t ‘Netflix and chilling.’ Do you even know what that is? I swear, you talk like a fifty year old sometimes.”

Ben did not know what it was. Evidently, not what he thought. “Then you’ll have no problem dropping me off. I’d hate to ruin things for the whippersnappers.”

“Ben!” Rey shouted it like he’d suddenly found himself on the other side of a room rather than directly next to her in the passenger’s seat of the car she was driving. “You! Are! Coming!” He was surprised she didn’t honk the car horn to punctuate each word.

He tried to look out his window, but it was even foggier than the windshield. He wiped at it with his sleeve instead. “Actually, Winter is coming. I can’t believe you’d forget.”

She was very quiet for a second, then forced a laugh. “She better be, or I’ll have some words for you.”

“Oh, she will.”

“Hmm. Are you going to turn into one of those authors who’s always talking about his own books and arguing with people who interpret them the wrong way?”

“To be one of those authors, I’d actually have to have published something,” Ben reminded her.

“Ah, but you have an Oscar-worthy script under your belt!” 

“Let's not talk about things I have under my belt right now.” He couldn’t help sounding slightly amused anyway. “I mean something I’m actually proud of. As far as I’m concerned, the moment this movie’s done, I’m burning the script and pretending it never happened.”

“Hey! Thanks a lot.”

“You know it has nothing to do with you. I’m sure we’ll have . . .” He threw a smug look at her. “Fun. Is that the kind of fun you have in mind?”

“No, not for tonight. But I think we will. During filming,” she said, her voice oddly cheerful. She planted a hand on his thigh and shook his leg back and forth a few times. “Anyway. Stop changing the subject. And stop being a hermit. Come hang out with me and Rose a while. You’ll feel much better after you eat and sit on a couch that isn’t covered in blankets and days-old ash.”

“Think she’ll let us use the shower again?”

“Probably, if you promise not to spend forty-five minutes in there.”

Ben pretended to think it over more, but he had already decided. “Fine. Take me with you.”

“Good. And please keep all your stupid comments about the movie selection to yourself. Rose is doing us a favor.”

Ben had only accompanied Rey on her visits with Rose a few times before, usually for parties, but each time, he was reminded of the place he’d grown up. Like his parents’ brownstone, Rose’s apartment in Queen Village was the type of place he did not foresee himself being able to afford any time soon, if ever. Which was probably part of why he was reluctant to go. Of course, there was also the fact that she was Rey’s friend, not his, and that she usually seemed to barely more than tolerate him. He and Rose never quite meshed. They both had a tendency to be a little short-fused, which meant that if they didn’t tread carefully around each other, small disagreements easily got blown out of proportion.

Tonight, Ben was just doing his best to follow Rey’s advice and shut up unless he had something constructive to add to the conversation. And it wasn’t too difficult. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, or he’d been training himself to ignore it most of them time. Whichever it was, he was glad Rose ordered several pizzas, because he was pretty sure that he was about to finish one of them all by himself. Which conveniently left very little opportunity for him to open his mouth and say something that would cause a misunderstanding.

The three of them were on the couch. He and Rose each claimed an end, and Rey was sprawled with her head in Rose’s lap and her feet in his. He was finally beginning to feel full, and was planning to to have a couple more slices for good measure. Even the movie was entertaining, if a little stupid. _Thirteen . . . Thirty . . ._ something. Ben could admit it: Rey was right. This was nice. He was actually relaxing for the first time in weeks. He wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t cold, he wasn’t thinking about work. He wasn’t even thinking about whether the costume fitting would be a disaster tomorrow. 

Instead, his hand was resting on Rey’s ankle, his fingers rubbing lightly over the bare skin between her sock and the hem of her jeans. And he _was_ thinking about the fact that he would soon be touching much more of her skin. Probably by this time next week. About whether the rest of it was as soft and smooth as this little sliver exposed to him right now. And how warm it would be in his hands, how it would grow flushed and hot with each word and caress. 

It would be by the script. Clinical. It was a scene. Consciously, he moved his hand and tugged her sock up. He was sitting here getting turned on by an ankle. This was some kind of Victorian bullshit. After this was all over, when he had the time and money to reestablish a social life, it was definitely time to download Tinder again. He needed to get laid, and not by his best friend for a cheesy porno.

“Hey.” Rey squinted at him from the other end of the sofa. “Don’t stop that, it felt nice.”

“Shh, you love this part!” Rose hissed, pinching playfully at Rey’s shoulder. Rey growled and swatted back, then settled down, Ben’s infraction apparently forgotten already.

He tried to focus his attention back on the movie, but soon found himself struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. “Are they . . . doing the _Thriller_ dance?” This was what Rose was shushing them over? 

“Shh!” 

That was both Rose and Rey this time. Rey dug her heel into his abdomen to further the point. Ben grumbled to himself and tried to watch without judgment, but soon his head was tipped back and he was falling asleep, wondering what sort of weird dreamscapes this whole situation was going to conjure up for him.

“Ben.” 

Something poked him in the shoulder once, then again harder. He cracked an eye open, and found Rose standing over him. He’d slid onto his side at some point and was half lying on the sofa. Rey was nowhere to be found, though he heard a high, drawn out giggle from somewhere in the room behind him. The kitchen? Ben wiped some drool from his chin and pushed himself up. “What?”

“Hey. Uh, Rey is a little . . . compromised right now.” Rose cast a rueful look in the direction of the giggling, which had ceased for the time being. Something in the other room sounded like it had just fallen to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“Compromised?” Ben was still waking up from his nap—how long had they let him sleep?—and something about the way Rose said the word caused more alarm than was likely necessary. 

“Yeah, you fell asleep, we finished _13 Going on 30_ and threw in _The Devil Wears Prada_. And opened a bottle of zin. And another after that.”

“Okay . . .” Ben squinted at her, then at the digital clock on the blu-ray player. 1:06 A.M. Jesus. He’d been sleeping almost five hours. That was nice of them, he supposed, but not when it meant they’d been getting smashed without him.

“Well, it was fun. But the bottles’re empty now and Rey definitely had a few more glasses than I did.” Rose plopped down next to him. He noticed that she was a little flushed and not quite speaking clearly. And yep, that was a whiff of rosé on her breath. “I should’ve been the voice of reason. We just hadn’t had a night like this in forever. She seemed like she needed it.”

“Yeah.” Ben could imagine a few reasons why that might be the case. Rey was definitely taking her own advice seriously: have a little fun. Hell, have a lot.

“You okay to drive her home?” 

“Yes?” Ben frowned. “I just spent the last few hours unconscious. You’re the ones partying.”

“Hey. Maybe if you’d been awake she wouldn’t have been acting so weird. Or at the very least, you could’ve helped mitigate. She listens to you.”

Ben begged to differ. And was she seriously trying to blame him? Rey was an adult woman. Neither he nor Rose really had a right to tell her to do anything. Rose had already admitted she’d dropped the ball. And what did she mean Rey was acting weird?

“Whatever.” He stood up, almost tripped over the coffee table, and headed off toward where he suspected his incapacitated roommate was waiting. “I’ll drive and make sure she’s okay.”

“Thank you.” Rose was on his heels and pushing something into his hand. “I got the keys. She kept dangling them around and saying she wasn’t going to let you take them unless you—ugh. Never mind. Here.”

In the kitchen, Rey was seated on the marble countertop. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and when she saw them enter, she waved so widely she almost toppled off the counter. 

“Hello! Beautiful friends!” She launched herself toward them, miraculously managed to land without falling, and hugged Ben as if she hadn’t seen him in a year. “Benjamin! Where’d you go? Did you have a nice beauty sleep?”

“Your name’s Benjamin?” Rose groused.

“No.” Ben extricated himself from Rey enough to keep her from cracking his ribs, then grabbed her elbow to hold her steady. “It’s not.”

Rose spotted Rey’s boots and went to retrieve them. “Does she know that?”

“When she’s sober, yeah.”

They helped Rey get herself bundled up to leave. She was a giggly mess through most of it and told some off-color jokes that made no sense to Ben but Rose seemed to find funny. When it came time to walk out, she kissed Rose on the forehead over and over and kept repeating what a good friend she was. Getting her out to the car was another adventure, even with Rose’s help, but soon enough they were finally on the road. 

For a little while, Rey kept talking to him about the second movie, then was suddenly quiet and started snoring shortly after. Ben might have found the silence unsettling—usually they talked when they drove together—but he was trying to focus on staying awake. When they arrived, he didn’t want to disturb her. To do so would be to risk another barrage of comments about how classy and beautiful Meryl Streep was. So instead, he carefully got his arms under her, lifted her out, and carried her all the way up to the apartment door. 

She wasn’t very heavy, but by then his arms were starting to ache and he needed to get the keys in the lock, so he had little choice but to get her down to her feet. “Rey?”

“Hnh.” Her face scrunched and her eyes fluttered open. “Ben?” Her thickly mittened hand went to the top of his head and started patting him rather hard as she mumbled, “Pretty. Ben, you have the prettiest hair . . .”

“That’s a hat, Rey.” 

“S’a pretty hat.”

He might have laughed, but he was worried about dropping her. “We’re home. I need you to stand up for a second. You can lean on me if you need to, but I gotta get the door unlocked.”

“Mmkay.”

He lowered her slowly, in case she hadn’t quite grasped what she just agreed to. But she slumped into him solidly enough with an arm around his waist, and he was able to get them inside and guide her to the sofa. For once he was glad they’d left it more or less as it had been that morning. Rey snuggled into the blankets with little coaxing. Ben pulled her boots off, tucked her in a bit more, and sank down next to her. He was wiped out all over again from what felt like relatively nothing after several solid hours of sleep at Rose’s. He stared at the heater, compelling it to power up by sheer force of will . . . nothing happened. Rey was asleep again, and very warm, and he wouldn’t be far behind.

  
\+ +

Thursday’s costume fitting was, in fact, not a disaster, though it started a little rough. Rey and Ben overslept and arrived at the cabin last of the group—Rey clutching a Gatorade and wearing conspicuously large sunglasses despite the overcast skies, Ben two-weeks unshaven and 24-hours uncaffeinated, lugging a pile of garment bags over his arm.

But after everyone got down to it, inklings of pessimism were largely assuaged. The minor alterations Rey had spent the last few days making to the costumes were successful; everything fit; no one had any real complaints. Even the location seemed to get general approval. Finally, it was coming together, and when they left a few hours later to head home, Ben found himself looking forward to filming. 

That was a first. He hoped it held.

The next afternoon, he wasn’t thinking about it at all. He was at work again, and felt like he’d been there for a full day. In a way, that wasn’t far off—he had a closing shift Thursday night, and then had to come in mere hours later for an opener. It sucked, but Mitaka had needed someone to come in for him, and Ben needed the hours. At the very least, he’d been able to spend most of his shift so far on the espresso machine, which he preferred to dealing with the register. Lusica was better at that anyway, and Shay was busy running breakfast items in and out of the kitchen.

During a midmorning lull, Ben was about to try to sneak a snack when he felt his phone vibrate in his apron pocket. They weren’t supposed to have their phones on them at all, but Mitaka wasn’t here today, and no one actually cared even when he was. He slipped into the kitchen and took a look. He had a message from Rey. That was strange. She didn’t usually text him during the day, especially when she was at work, too.

_ben. find somewhere you can be alone a second_  
_i have something to tell you_  
_you’re going to be mad_

That was the last thing he wanted to read. Immediately, about a dozen possibilities ran through his head. The car had died. They were being evicted. Han had needed to terminate her position. Someone was dropping out of the movie. And so on. He told Lusica he was going to grab a few gallons of milk from the back to stock under the counter, and slipped into the kitchen to hide in the walk-in fridge. Beyond going outside, it was the only place he could think of that would afford some privacy.

_Hey. Alone. Tell me._

He leaned on a shelf and shivered while he waited. She was already replying.

_cabin’s wrecked  
an accident_

_WHAT_

_someone was speeding on that little road_  
_hit some ice_  
_ran their car through it_  
_the cabin_

Ben stared at his phone screen until it dimmed and went black for lack of activity. His mind had blanked out and for about ten seconds he couldn’t see straight. He pocketed his phone, turned, grabbed one of the cartons of half and half, and hurled it across the opposite wall of the fridge. Someone (possibly him) had left the cap loose—the contents exploded toward him on contact, splattering his apron and shoes with cream. He yelled again, kicked the wall. Punched the wall. That was a mistake. Pain flared up his arm. “Fuck! Fucking . . . _fuck_!”

Despite the fact that he could see his breath, he felt unbearably hot. He hit the wall once again, this time with an open palm. It was just as painful, but somehow that felt like a perk. It was another minute before he felt calm enough to emerge. He needed to go outside and call Rey. Texting wasn’t the way to discuss this. 

His phone buzzed again.

_ben?  
call?_

He pushed the door open roughly and was met with the alarmed faces of Lusica and Shay, who had evidently been standing outside the fridge long enough to hear at least some of his tantrum. They both just stared at him, and he stared at them. 

“I need to make a phone call.” He stepped past them and they didn’t object.

He’d overreacted. He knew that. He’d have to apologize. But he couldn’t focus. This was the plan. They were supposed to get this done starting tonight. He’d been on edge all week. Before that, even. And now . . . what? 

His hand was killing him. He wondered if he’d broken it. That would be just what he needed. He went outside and sat on the curb, dialed Rey, and waited. She picked up on the first ring.

“Ben. Hey.”

“What the fuck happened?”

“What I said. Some woman was driving out in that area last night. The roads have been icy. I guess . . . she was going too fast around that last curve? Or something. I don’t know.” Rey sounded so stressed out. Ben tried to remember he wasn’t the only one who had something riding on this. His tone probably wasn’t making her feel any better. “She skidded off road, car went through the cabin. I haven’t seen it but apparently half of it’s completely collapsed.”

“Are you fucking . . .”

“They brought what’s left of the car to your dad’s. It’s . . . really bad.” He heard Rey pause, and the shaky sigh she issued before continuing. “The woman’s okay. Hard to believe.”

“I really don’t give a fuck if she’s okay!” 

A customer exiting the coffeeshop overheard and gave him an affronted look. That was probably a little extreme. In the back of his mind, Ben was glad no one had died. But he also hated this woman, whoever she was. Trying to keep his voice calm, or at least quieter, he said, “Rey, what the hell are we going to do? We were supposed to start filming tonight. Everything was set up in there. I can’t—”

“I know. Ben, I know.” He wondered where she was right now. Maybe holed up in his father’s office, willing herself not to freak out. Rey didn’t freak out about things. But he could swear he felt how tense she was through the phone, and it was amplifying whatever he was already trying to corral of his own distress. “Look. We still have the costumes in the car. Right?”

“Yes.”

“And the cameras.”

He had to think about that. They’d only gotten those a few days ago. “Yeah. Yeah, back at the apartment.”

“Okay. Okay, good. That’s good. We can just . . . find somewhere new.”

“We don’t have money for someplace new.” Ben was chewing at his lip and forced himself to stop. “I can’t ask Lando for more money. We don’t even have _time_.”

“I . . . _fuck_.” She was quiet for a long time, and he didn’t know what to say, so he just listened to the sound of her breathing. It was soothing. “Okay. Look. How’s this. I’ll text everyone and let them know what happened. Let’s all meet up at Kanata’s tonight, have some drinks.”

“I don’t think getting drunk is going to fix this.” Also, drinking cost money. And there was no amount of alcohol right now that would set Ben at ease.

“No, it won’t, but between everyone, we’ll be able to figure something out.”

Ben groaned. He wasn’t as optimistic as Rey. Then again, everyone getting drunk together had been the catalyst of this in the first place. If nothing else, at least it would be a distraction.

“Okay. Kanata’s. I’m done here at three. I’ll make a laundry run for us. Come get you when you’re done. We can stop home and change and go . . .”

“Sure. I’ll tell everyone to meet at eight.”

“Great. Hey . . . Rey? ” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry if I sounded pissed at you. I’m not.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” she said, but she sounded a little lighter.

“Yeah yeah. Thanks for letting me know when you found out. Really.”

“Sure. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”

“There’s not, but it’s a nice thought.”

She was thinking something over. “It’s going to be okay. You said that to me the other day. It . . . meant a lot. Helped. So I’m reminding you. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll try.” It did help, actually. Only a little, but enough. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Ben waited outside for a few more minutes. It was still slow in the shop, and he needed the air, even if it was freezing and he’d left his coat inside. His hand throbbed. He took a cursory look at it, prodded at the joints and moved each finger one at a time. Made a fist. It hurt like hell, but everything seemed to be working. He’d have some wicked bruises by the time his shift was over. That seemed like nothing in light of the unexpected disaster today was already proving to be.

He turned his phone over in his hand a few times, idly considering what Rey had said and why—he’d helped her, and she wanted to help him. And she trusted him. _That_ was a point she kept reminding him of, again and again, like a mantra for this whole bizarre shitshow of a situation. She always knew what to do; she always found a way out. She focused him. So he would trust her, too. He would trust that, between the two of them (and sure, maybe with the help of the others), they could fix this. Surely something could still be salvaged, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist for this chapter can be found over at [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1)!
>
>> Chapter 5 // White Zinfandel is Coming  
> Fett’s Vette - MC Chris  
> Johnny Delusional - FFS  
> Can You Tell - Ra Ra Riot  
> I Touch Myself - Divinyls  
> Solo - Frank Ocean  
> No Control - One Direction


	6. The Supremacy is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of disaster, the gang rallies around Rey and Ben and finds a solution in an unlikely—and possibly unwilling—source. With a new filming location secured, _The Fist Awakens: Winter is Cumming_ finally gets underway . . . which may mean desecration for the sacred marble countertops of the Supremacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you to betas Tia (reyloscum) and Dot (leofgyth), once again!

Kanata’s was a divey bar a short walk from the apartment, which was a plus when Rey and Ben didn’t want to waste gas. Another plus was that, in better times, they frequented it enough that the staff knew them by name—Maz, the owner, particularly seemed to like them, and they could usually count on a few free drinks if they stayed late enough when she was around. She was a weird, tiny woman of indeterminate age who, from what Ben understood, had done business with his father at some point in the past, but the details were foggy. All he knew for certain was that she had a taste for eclectic decor and a voice that belied her size. Tonight, he was hoping that their recent absence would not have seen a change in the status quo.

Earlier, Rey had experienced some protests from certain members of the group when she sounded the call for a meeting there. From Hux, he assumed, though Rey hadn’t made it explicit. Dissidents aside, in the end they all gathered at the appointed time and place. It wasn’t a particularly busy night, so they easily found space at one end of the bar and claimed it as their own, and the bartender seemed pleased by the near constant stream of orders the group kept coming.

Though Ben knew Rey was anxious to address the problem of their filming location, or lack thereof, she seemed to still be reeling a bit from the news herself. And no one else wanted to be the first to bring it up, including him. She’d explained the situation to everyone in her text message—she even sneaked some photos of the car wreck to show everyone, as if seeing how the other guy looked might soften the blow to their own situation. Even so, if Ben hadn’t known any better, this could have been any other night at the bar with no more important agenda.

“Solo, what the hell did you do to your hand?” Phasma was holding court in a corner seat, observing the others with interest until her eyes settled on him. Unlike the rest of them, she was still on her first drink. Smart. She liked to be on top of things, he knew, and there was little better way to do that than by remaining reasonably sober while your companions drank themselves into sweet oblivion.

Right now, Ben wished Phasma was a little less on top of things. He had been trying to be inconspicuous. The options were either to wrap it, which would have made it obvious, or not wrap it, which, given how bruised it was now, was equally obvious. 

“Ben had a work incident,” Rey said, her head lolling onto Finn’s shoulder. 

Ben hadn’t given her exact details, but she probably assumed, correctly, that it had been something rash and stupid, and she was annoyed by his caginess about it. She was nursing a tumbler of cheap whiskey, but she’d already had a beer of her own and half of Ben’s, so her tongue was getting looser. He hoped that meant she would redirect the conversation soon, or he was going to have to. His mood was still bad enough that he did not foresee himself handling that responsibility well.

“Work incident?” Poe looked down the bar at Ben, cocking an eyebrow. “Well there you go, problem solved. Workman’s comp. Boom.”

And Rey had found her opening. “Not the kind of work incident that gets a person paid off. Which means our problem is still our problem.”

“Why can’t you just rent a new location?” Poe asked.

“Funding is low.” Ben was sitting on Rey’s other side, looking very surly and cradling his beer close to his chest with his uninjured hand. “Remember? Unless you’re offering.”

“On my paycheck? Not likely.”

“I thought so.” 

“Could we . . .” Finn looked like he already doubted what he was about to suggest but was also aware how desperate they were. “Use that coffee place you work at? You close up there a lot, right? Just sneak us all in after hours.”

“Oh. Maybe?” Rey looked at Ben expectantly.

“That is underhanded, Finn. And sort of gross,” Poe said, looking remarkably proud while Hux’s expression shifted to one of mild disgust. “Nice one.”

“No, it’s not,” Ben said. “Are you kidding? That’s . . . insanely unsanitary. And would probably result in my manager finding out and me losing my job. There aren’t many ways this can get worse anymore, but that would be one.”

“I have a thought,” Phasma waved a hand for their attention. “The Supremacy.”

“The what?” Finn asked. He tried to stifle a laugh and failed. “The ‘Supremacy’?”

Hux spoke up for what may have been the first time since they all arrived. 

“No.”

Rey looked as amused as Finn. “What is that? A boat?”

“Yes! Pirate porno!” Poe declared, heedless of any impending explanation.

“It’s the Hux family’s estate,” Ben explained. He glared at no one in particular. At this point he wasn’t sure if it was possible for his face to do anything else. 

But actually, that could work. It was huge, not very far away, already furnished . . . and, if he recalled correctly, more or less unoccupied for roughly half the year while Hux Senior wintered somewhere tropical or European. 

“No,” Hux repeated.

“Why not?” Phasma said. “It’s perfect. It’s _empty_. Hell, Ben’s script calls for a fortress. That place basically _is_ one. Though a bit more modern than we need . . .”

Hux sat up a little straighter on his barstool, fixing Phasma with the hardest glare he could manage. “You want me to let _everyone here_ fuck on various surfaces of my father’s house?” he asked incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Phas.”

“Oh come on, Fux, we’ll clean the sheets.” Poe laughed and took another drink of his beer.

“We really would,” Rey added earnestly.

Under the table, Phasma rested her hand on Hux’s thigh. She looked into his eyes with a particular sort of knowledge that only he could read. He already knew he was going to agree. Phasma and her _stupid blue_ eyes. “Come on, it’s just a few scenes, and if your father finds out, then that means he’s watching porn and you probably want to move out,” Phasma laughed.

“He wants to move out anyway, I’d guess,” Finn said.

Hux glared at the entire group. When his gaze found Phasma’s again, he said in a very disgruntled tone, “I hate you _all_.”

Rey let out a little whoop of excitement, and Phasma bought Hux a glass of the best whiskey Kanata’s bar had to offer. Hux drank it, looking sullen the entire time.

“I’ll make some script edits tonight, to reflect the new location, and we’ll be good to go,” Ben added. He fiddled with the loose corner of the label on his beer bottle. “We can still stick to the schedule, if Hux’s dad will be gone.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “He’s in St. Barth’s for at least another two weeks, and then going to Miami for an extended holiday,” he explained. “We have free rein of the Supremacy until the end of February.”

“Why’d you name your house?” Poe wondered.

Instead of answering, Hux took a large swig of his whiskey and sent another glare in Phasma’s direction.

Smug as ever, Phasma replied, “I have yet to discover the full reason, but between you and me, I think his dad is compensating for something.”

  
\+ +

Hux’s place was, almost literally, a fortress. It was a manor, stark white and hugely modern, with flat roofing, at least a half dozen balconies, and several shiny cars gleaming in the garage where Hux met them. There were a few snowflakes falling that morning, but not enough snow to be substantial. Still, Poe begged, “Come on, Fux, you’ve got space in that ten-car garage. Let us park in there?”

“No.”

Rey sighed. She wanted to beg; she wasn’t entirely sure their Buick would start when they left again. They may not be getting a lot of snow, but the temperatures were much lower than average. The cold would really kill the engine.

She didn’t argue, though, because Hux had already offered up his home to them. Rey didn’t want to take advantage. Instead she just smiled sweetly at him as she walked past and let herself into the house.

Poe led the way, and not a single one of them was shocked to find Phasma already lounging in the sitting room nursing a glass of wine. Rey envied her; she looked so regal as she sat on the sofa like she owned the place (and maybe she did). Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief and mirth as the group trudged in.

“Shoes off by the door,” Hux said curtly. “Do _not_ trail a mess in here.”

Bemused, Phasma said, “Relax. Your cleaners will be here next week, there won’t be a spot anywhere in the place.”

“Still,” Hux insisted through pursed lips.

Poe whistled as he looked around, craning his neck to look up. The sitting room was two stories high, a balcony up above revealing a hallway of doors. “Not bad, Fux. Not bad at all.” 

As Poe and the rest looked around, Ben got right to work unpacking cameras and setting aside garment bags for Poe and Finn. He was focused, ready to stick to a schedule, because the sooner they finished this, the sooner he could go home and try to get a couple hours of sleep before he had to work that evening. They’d gotten in late last night, and he’d kept waking up every few hours from the cold. It left him cranky and hypersensitive, which he didn’t like but was powering through.

“So,” Phasma began. She took a sip of her wine. “Who’s fucking today, and where?”

Ben handed her a camera right away and said, gesturing over his shoulder, “Those two.”

Phasma grinned. “Ah, yes. Littlefingerer and Creampie, as you named them,” she said with a laugh.

“Weird ass names, sure,” Poe interjected. “But we’re going to _rock_ this. Where are we shooting the scene?”

Hux leaned in the doorway between the sitting room and the kitchen, watching them. His arms were crossed. “In my kitchen,” he said blankly. “Where I will never eat again.”

Phasma snorted. “Like you ever eat here much, anyway,” she said. She looked at the camera in her hand and asked, “So, does this mean I can get up close and personal? Get some really terrible close-ups of Finn getting fucked over the counter?”

“Please don’t,” Finn begged weakly.

“That’s what porn _is_.” Ben sounded exasperated.. “It’s what you signed up for.”

Finn brushed his hand over his hair and asked, “Can’t someone else do it?”

“Nope.”

Ben was unforgiving in how he shot down Finn’s request. He’d very carefully shot listed everything and what he needed each person to do. Rey would discover them, and then skitter out of view of the cameras to hold the microphone. Hux would drink himself into a stupor pretending that these two men he wasn’t exactly fond of _weren’t_ fucking in his kitchen, Phasma would hold the camera, and Ben would direct. 

Easy.

Except these people were _not_ making it easy.

Ben handed a garment bag each to Poe and Finn, and before he let them disappear to change, he said very firmly, “Don’t rip these when you take them off, and no bodily fluids on them. _None._ Understood?”

Finn nodded seriously, but Poe laughed it off. “Ever heard of a dry cleaner?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ben said through gritted teeth.

Rey swooped in at the perfect moment, drifting her hand across Ben’s back to try to calm him as she told Poe, “We have, but we’re also on a tight budget. No bodily fluids on the costumes.” She pointed at him, a very serious expression on her face, and then pushed him towards the restroom adjacent to the kitchen. “Now go change!”

As Poe and Finn went down the hallway towards the restroom, Ben turned to Rey. “This is going to be terrible,” he lamented.

“No it’s not,” she said with a bright smile. She hoisted herself up on the counter next to where he stood. “And you know why?” she asked. He looked up, and Rey grinned brighter. “Because I remembered the lube. We almost forgot it.”

Ben, against his better judgment, snorted with laughter. He needed to be a _Serious Director_ , but that was funny. He hadn’t even thought about that, but Finn and Poe needed it. He hoped they did everything else they had to do to prep for this scene. He hadn’t thought to bring it up, because he’d assumed they’d deal with it themselves.

“Just . . . relax,” she said, gently swinging her leg over to kick Ben’s thigh. “They’re just going to have sex in front of us. That’s all. It’s going to be great.”

“I’m surprised Dameron hasn’t asked if he can play us a song, yet,” he replied.

She glanced down the hallway where Poe leaned against the wall, looking cool and casual with the garment bag draped over his arm. He was waiting for Finn to finish changing. 

“He will,” Rey said, bemused. She turned back to look at Ben. “But just indulge him, okay? You can cut anything you want in post-production. They’re doing us a big favor, so humor them.”

“This is not going to make us _any_ money,” he argued.

Her smile faded a little, and she sighed. “Don’t think like that.” She reached over to pat him on the shoulder, and tried very hard to keep her optimism. “We’re going to get out of this mess. You’ll see.”

Ben looked up at Rey and nodded. They kept eye contact for a moment before he realized that they had work to do. “Your dress is in the other room,” he said. “You should change, too. Is Rose coming? She should do your makeup.”

“Yeah. She overslept, so she might be a few minutes late. I could ask Phasma, though.”

He glanced into the sitting room, scrutinizing Phasma. Brow furrowed, he said, “She doesn’t wear makeup.”

With a knowing smile, Rey laughed and hopped off the counter. “The fact that you can’t tell she’s wearing makeup just speaks to her skill.” She made her way towards the doorway. “I’ll ask her. And my hair, too? Do you want it different, or is this okay?” she asked, pausing and turning her head a little so he could get a look at her ponytail.

Ben considered it, then shook his head. “Maybe do those three buns, like we talked about.” He still looked like he was thinking about something else, and he peered doubtfully at Phasma again. “For consistency, I wonder if we should—”

“ _Ben_ ,” she said, turning on her heel. “Relax. For consistency, Phasma can just do it, then. She’ll be here for everything.” She stepped closer to him. “I know you’re nervous because this is really important, but don’t worry so much about it, alright? Have fun with it.”

“We’re making a _porno_ ,” he argued.

She smiled. “Yes, we are. And sex should be fun. Now relax!”

Before Ben could open his mouth to form another argument, Rey left the room. He glanced down the hallway, where Finn now waited for Poe to finish changing, and then to the sitting room where Rey sat facing Phasma on the sofa, eyes closed as Phasma brushed on some makeup. Hux stood boredly at their side, holding Phasma’s wine glass.

This was _definitely_ weird.

It wasn’t nearly as weird as Ben setting up the camera, getting everyone in their places, and saying _action_ , though.

Rey played her part easily—she walked into the Supremacy, glanced around at Princess Winter’s odd surroundings, and meandered through the house. When she reached the kitchen, she paused in the doorway and feigned shock. Then, she disappeared to hold the microphone.

At least Finn and Poe had studied their lines and had practiced. Even if they insisted they _didn’t_ hook up, Ben now knew better.

True to his word, Poe had written a song, and he walked into the kitchen strumming his guitar and singing a verse. He sang of a beautiful princess who was coming to the fortress, and Finn looked up watching Poe with a hungry gaze. It wasn’t exactly what Ben had written, but he’d let it slide.

“Have you prepared the food for the feast?” Poe asked.

Finn nodded. “I’m ready,” he replied. “I’m a baker. I can be ready for anything.”

Smirking, Poe set aside his guitar and stepped closer to Finn. “Ready for _anything_ , huh?” he asked.

“Of course,” Finn said. “ _Anything._ ”

Abandoning pretense, Poe placed a hand at the nape of Finn’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Their mouths met in a collision of _want_ and _need_ , nothing on their minds except getting off, now. Finn glanced up once as they kissed, eyes seeking out the camera, but was quickly admonished by Ben telling him not to do that.

Poe’s mouth trailed kisses down Finn’s neck, teeth grazing a sensitive spot and drawing a moan from him. The sound only encouraged Poe further, and he made swift work of unbuttoning the tunic Finn was wearing. Rey glanced up at Ben, watching the way he tensed as Finn rather roughly fumbled with Poe’s shirt, fearing that the men would tear something.

When she looked back at Finn and Poe, they were completely lost in the moment. For that, Rey was grateful. This porno had to be believable—meaning the sex had to be _good_. And so far, it was. They had a practiced sort of familiarity with each other, which took all awkwardness out of the equation. Rey had a smile on her face as she held the microphone above the men, capturing the sinful sounds they were making. 

As dire as their circumstances were, she was really enjoying this part of it. Finn and Poe appeared to be having fun, and Rey didn’t miss the way Hux’s eyes were rather attentively focused upon the two men who were now naked, Finn bent over the countertop, Poe spending just a few moments prepping Finn, making sure he was ready. _Interesting._

Rey gasped as she watched Poe press himself into Finn, the way Finn’s eyes fluttered shut and a loud, low moan escaped him. They’d clearly done this before, but it was the first time Rey had ever seen a man being intimate with another man, and these two had chemistry. Finn’s skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, and Poe had a curl of hair dangling down in his eyes, sticking against his own sweaty brow.

She didn’t hear the lines they were saying, she was too busy staring unabashedly, just as Hux was. Phasma walked closer with the camera a few times, getting some good close-ups that Rey knew would make her blush later in the post-production process.

Poe’s knuckles were white as he held Finn’s hips and fucked into him, Finn bent over the counter but clearly loving every moment of it. Ben kept a scrutinizing gaze on the two men, his cheeks a little flushed but his composure overall still intact. He was being very serious about this project, watching the scene, checking his watch, glancing to the script every so often to make sure their lines were at least close to what he’d written.

Poe leaned in and moaned into Finn’s ear before he said, “I’m gonna come.”

He pulled out of Finn and spun him around, pressing his back against the cool black marble of the countertop. Finn spread his legs and Poe stood between them, both of them moaning as their cocks pressed together, red and hard and sensitive. Finn reached down between them and in one of his large hands, stroked them both. 

Poe leaned in, stealing a kiss from Finn. “Make a mess of me,” Finn begged.

“Fuck,” Poe muttered.

Hearing Finn beg so wantonly as he had was really doing things for Poe. In moments, Finn’s hand brought them both to climax, cum spurting over Finn’s abdomen, trailing down his beautiful, dark skin. Poe leaned his forehead to Finn’s, looking down at the mess between them, breathing heavily.

After another moment, Ben nodded and turned to Phasma as he said, “Cut.”

Finn and Poe didn’t move right away, Poe stealing one last kiss off-camera before stepping away from Finn. Finn looked exhausted, but content, as did Poe. They grinned at each other, and then looked around the room. They’d just fucked in front of all of them.

“Wow.”

Everyone spun around to see Rose standing in the doorway, her eyes big and wide.

“Rose!” Rey greeted her with a smile. “I’m glad you made it!”

“Looks like I missed the show,” Rose laughed.

Rey set down the microphone and walked to the doorway where Rose stood, looking a little flushed. She gave her a hug as greeting, then glanced over her shoulder to where Hux was stepping towards Ben. She took that as her opportunity to pull Rose aside to tell her about what she’d missed.

Finn and Poe were currently disappearing down the hallway to the restroom, presumably to clean up, as Ben knelt down to pick up the costumes that they had barely worn. He ignored Hux’s presence for as long as he could, but the man tended to hover when he wanted to be heard, and this was no exception. Ben stayed quiet; Hux would undoubtedly express his opinions sooner rather than later.

“For the record, I still think this is a very strange undertaking, especially for you, Solo.” Hux glanced down at the counter, noticing that it was shiny in a way that it probably shouldn’t be. “They got lube on my counter,” he said, appalled.

“So?” Ben asked. “Big deal. Wash it off.”

“Let me say that again,” Hux repeated, his whole body tense. “There is _lube_ where I usually pour my _orange juice_.”

Phasma snorted, and Ben stood up to look into Hux’s eyes. “You’re paranoid,” Ben said, glancing down at the counter. The entire thing was black and marble and _shiny_. There was no way to tell what was natural shine and what was lube.

Hux narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, Poe wandered out and said, “Thanks for letting us use your counter, Fux! It was a good time.”

“It won’t happen again.”

Poe chuckled. “Yeah, alright. I wouldn’t mind getting a look at more of this place,” he said, stepping towards Hux and Ben. He handed Ben the hat he’d been wearing for his costume and then nodded to Hux. “Show me around?”

Ben, who would rather have Hux out of his hair as he was trying to work, actually agreed with Dameron for once. “Yeah, you should show him around. We need a list of more places we could shoot scenes,” Ben instructed. “You two make a list, I’ll look it over sometime before the next shoot.”

Hux opened his mouth to argue, but Poe was dragging him away before he could say a word. 

Ben’s phone began to ring at that very moment, and he grumbled as he fished it out of his pocket. _Mitaka._

With an annoyed snarl, he answered. “What?”

“I need you to come in early,” said Mitaka. “That new kid—the high schooler?—they bailed on their shift this afternoon and we’re going to get a rush with that stupid sale at the mall.”

“I’m busy.”

“Do you need this money or not?” Mitaka asked. “Because last I recalled, you were asking for as many hours as possible. This will push you to overtime hours this week, so you’ll get even more. Come on. Help us out.”

Ben sighed. “Fine. I can be there in half an hour.”

He hung up before Mitaka could say another word, and he sighed with annoyance. “Go on,” Phasma said, nodding towards the door. She had a hint of kindness in her voice, and it was surprising to Ben. “We’ll get Rey home, or send her to Rose’s for a few hours.”

“But—”

“She’ll understand.”

She held Ben’s gaze, and hoped she could convey to him that she had this under control. After a moment, he sighed, shoulders slumping. He nodded and walked towards the door, resigned to another long, miserable shift at First Order Coffee. Those plans he’d had to go home and catch at least an hour or two of sleep were shot to hell. Of course they were. But hey, filming had started as scheduled—another day of exhaustion was a small price to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist for this chapter can be found over at [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1)!
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter 6 // The Supremacy is Coming  
> 
>
>> Game of Thrones Main Title - Ramin Djawadi  
> Bitch Better Have My Money - Rihanna  
> My Alcoholic Friends - The Dresden Dolls  
> Between My Legs - Rufus Wainwright  
> Local God - Everclear  
> Squeeze Me Macaroni - Mr. Bungle  
> 


	7. Our Lady of Copyright Infringement is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the first scene filmed and out of the way, life comes back into focus. Rey and Ben have to figure out their finances before the porno launches, and it’s as depressing as one could imagine. They did manage to pay December’s rent though, so... progress?
> 
> When filming resumes later that week, it’s Hux and Phasma’s turn. Cue Poe, who is unable to shut up, Finn, who just has a lot of questions, and Rey and Rose, who can’t stop ogling Phasma’s muscles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to Tia and Dot for their hard work beta reading this beast. We are so grateful.
> 
>  **Bonus!** For an extra sneak peek at Phasma and Hux's relationship, check out the ficlet we wrote titled October is Coming, right over [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14976530).

Rey sat at a table near the hand-out counter at First Order Coffee, hair wrapped up in a towel atop her head. After shooting Finn and Poe’s scene, and her intro scenes, Rey had in fact gone home with Rose. Together, the two of them stayed up far too late watching romcoms and drinking wine, gossiping about the porno, their lives, and work. Rey pointedly avoided the topic of their finances, but when Rose dropped her off at home the next day, Rey realized with slight annoyance with herself that she probably should have taken a nice, warm shower while at Rose’s place.

So, she’d followed Ben to work that afternoon and during a lull in the crowd, he’d washed her hair in the back sink again. Now, as he made coffees for all the retail workers coming through in preparation for their shifts, Rey sat cross-legged on a chair, biting her lip and looking very closely at her laptop screen.

She was trying to manage their meager budget. Ben’s overtime pay from picking up the shift yesterday was a godsend, but not enough of one to make much of a difference. After paying rent the day before, their funds were drained once more. It didn’t look like they had any hope of catching up on their other bills yet. The kerosene and candles would have to stay a few more weeks.

Once she was sufficiently depressed by the state of their finances, she closed the laptop and packed up her things. Ben was finishing up the last few drinks, but she knew she could help herself to the back room. Nearly everyone thought she was an employee there anyway.

Rey set the laptop down on the work desk in the back, and then shook out her hair. She shuffled the towel through it one last time before setting it aside and flinging her hair back. After she’d retrieved her hairbrush from her bag, she sat down on a pallet full of bags of coffee beans—the most comfortable thing in the back room—and started to brush her hair.

Ben came in the back a few moments later, some blended coffee drink splattered on his apron, and studied Rey. He loathed how pitiful their situation had become. “Hi,” he said, offering her a broken scone.

She took it from him; they couldn’t sell broken scones, because they didn’t “look good.” Rey disagreed with that standard on principle, but in this case, she was grateful for it. It meant they either had to throw it away or eat it—and she was starving. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking the food from him. She broke a corner off of the scone and ate it before she said, “And thanks for everything. Y’know . . . with the movie.”

Ben looked surprised by her statement. As far as he could recall, his general mood towards the project had been irritation with a hint of annoyance, so for her to be thanking him felt out of place and odd. “Why?” he asked.

Smiling, Rey replied, “You’ve really come into your own. You take charge, you make things happen. And you’re better at rolling with the punches than I’d expected.”

“Hey.”

“You’re stubborn,” she interrupted his protestation, bemused. “You don’t like being told what to do. You also have a lot of opinions. That doesn’t bode well for group work.”

“It didn’t in college,” he agreed sullenly.

She took another bite of her scone and said, “See?” A few bits of food flew out of her mouth when she spoke, and Ben wished he could say he was surprised by that. Rey swallowed the food and added, “I’m really proud of you, Ben.”

Ben felt his face growing hotter, and he didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t heard anyone say they were proud of him in . . . a while. A long while. Thankfully, before he had to come up with something to say, the bell over the door in the main lobby rang, signaling to him that a customer had just come in. Reluctantly, he nodded in response to Rey’s praise and left the back room. She smiled, pleased with herself.

When he returned to the back room to get the broom to sweep before closing, he spotted Rey, still situated on the bags of coffee beans. Only sometime in the last hour, she’d fallen asleep, her little body curled up in a ball. She slept soundly, her mouth dropped open a bit, her hair a mess. Ben noticed that her brow was furrowed up just a little, like she was annoyed, or having a bad dream.

 _She looks cold_ , he thought to himself.

He glanced around the back room for something warm. He spotted his jacket hanging on the coat rack by the desk, so he took it off the hook and draped it over Rey’s body. It covered her completely. Under the warmth of his flannel jacket, her expression relaxed, and even though he could get in _serious_ trouble for letting her sleep there, Ben let her be. It might be the most restful sleep she’d get in days, and she deserved it.

Before going back out front, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He found his text message thread with Lando and typed out a quick message.

**9:42 P.M.:** _Thank you._

Ben left his phone to charge by the register while he cleaned up the place. He wiped the tables, put up the chairs, swept the floor, and did all his other boring closing tasks. When it was time to go, he grabbed his phone charger before retrieving Rey from the back. When the screen lit up, he saw a message.

**9:55 P.M.:** _Anytime, starfighter. I’ve always got your back._

With a heavy sigh, he pocketed his phone. If this movie didn’t work out, he’d need a hell of a lot more help from Lando than the man was probably willing to give. 

Ben tried not to think about that too much.

+++

After the inaugural filming day, nearly a week went by before everyone was able to get together to continue their work. Ben figured that if this were a real movie production, they would be able to shoot scenes piecemeal if some people weren’t available. But this was far from that, and their limited resources necessitated that each participant had at least one role to fulfill outside of their on-camera duties. Often more than one. For instance, behind the scenes, Hux’s main role was to stand around sneering and complaining about who was getting what fluids on which apparently sacred surface of his home. Which, Ben supposed, he couldn’t entirely blame him for.

Tonight, they’d opted to set the scene away from food-preparation areas in favor of the Supremacy’s excessively well-furnished game room. And Ben was enjoying a blessed break from snide commentary, because Hux was currently getting fucked from behind by Phasma and was very much into the scene. So was Phasma—she was propped with a pillow on top of the pool table, while Hux straddled her and rode hard against her strap-on in reverse cowgirl. Or cowboy, for the sake of accuracy. Mostly he was just impressed by their ability to maintain the position given their less conventional setting and circumstances.

At this point in the script, which he had just glanced at for the fifth time since the scene began, there really wasn’t much call for dialogue beyond whatever spontaneous exchanges might arise in the moment. There hadn’t been much of that. Phasma’s face wore a look of almost frightening intensity as her squire bore down and rose against her, her hips thrusting in time with his movements. 

As for Hux . . . Ben had probably been the least interested in seeing him have sex out of the entire group. Even so, he now found it difficult not to wonder at the almost businesslike way Hux went about the act. He was naked and sweaty and breathing hard, but not a single hair was out of place, and he’d been fixated on the same point on the wall for basically the entire time Phasma had been inside him. Ben wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from the pairing, but something more than this weirdly dispassionate union, surely.

Regardless, there was definitely familiarity between Phasma and Hux. If not with this precise scenario—though Ben wouldn’t have been surprised—then certainly with the dynamic. He was beginning to wonder if he and Rey were the only two involved in this that hadn’t already fucked each other. Well, no, that wasn’t fair. She had a scene with Finn and Phasma to film yet, and that arrangement had absolutely never happened before. 

Surreptitiously, he stole a look at her. She was with Rose, who was taking a turn at holding the mic. They were watching the scene unfold, occasionally gesturing at each other and leaning their heads together to whisper, which meant Rey didn’t notice his eyes on her. 

“So, is it just me, or are those two . . . sort of perfect?” 

Ben snapped back into the moment. That was good, because he’d been staring at Rey staring at Phasma and Hux, wondering what she was thinking of it. Which was not his job as director.

“What do you mean? They met in college. They've been friends for years.” He shuffled the papers of the script around a little and turned his attention back to Poe and Finn, who were crowding with him near the mounted camera. Poe was manning that one, and Finn was on the handheld, taking a brief break from close-up duty.

“Not Rey and Rose.” Poe raised an eyebrow, then pointed in the direction of the scene. “ _Those_ two. Squire Peg and Our Lady of Copyright Infringement,” he said. “A little . . . mechanical, sure. But, eh. They work really well together, right?”

“Are you really surprised?” Finn asked. He frowned down at the camera he was holding and fiddled with one of the controls, checked the viewfinder, and toggled something else. “You heard her at the reunion. Him submitting to her or whatever.”

“She could’ve been joking. Who doesn’t love a good joke on Fux? But here’s the thing,” Poe went on in an undertone. He checked the shot and stepped away from the camera a few paces. “She’s definitely skilled with the strap-on. Right? That’s not just something you throw on a first time and know how to really work it.”

“Had a lot of experience with dildos, Dameron?” Ben looked up from the script again. He wasn’t actually reading it, but he was trying not to get distracted again. This wasn’t helping. 

“Look at her hips move! And the way he just—damn. They’ve got that angle _just_ right.”

“You sound like you’re about two seconds away from crashing their party,” Finn mused.

“Nah, doesn’t actually look like much of a party.” Poe assumed a fleeting impression of Hux’s impassive focus, then winked at Ben and Finn. “Though I gotta admit, I’m tempted to take notes.”

Ben shook his head. “Are we talking about this still? Who cares? We’re all fucking on camera. It’s not a learning experience.”

“No, he has a point,” Finn said. “Maybe Hux looks like he’s in the middle of a business meeting, but. I dunno. Something about it makes it easier to appreciate the . . . technical aspects?”

“Then write a song about it,” Ben muttered.

Poe laughed and clapped Ben on the shoulder. “You know, I might have to. Hey, you’ve got a talent for the written word. Maybe not conversation, but writing? Sure. I’ll let you help write lyrics.”

“Don’t let him name it,” Finn cautioned. “Not after the title he gave this thing. No offense, Solo.”

Poe’s laughter intensified as Finn joined in, and soon, despite himself, Ben couldn’t help doing so as well. Just a little. Damn him, Finn sort of had a point. 

“I’ll leave the songwriting and titling to you,” Ben told Poe. “I’m more into prose.”

“Right, right.” 

Ben let his attention return to the scene, which was still going on, though not much had changed. They’d been at this a while, and he expected he would be calling _cut_ soon. Though he was beginning to think the lighting wasn’t quite right. Phasma may not have gotten herself a shiny knight’s helmet for her costume, but she had found, somewhere, a rather strange metallic bra, and apparently that was just as good in her eyes. Visually, it was interesting, and she wore it well—it accentuated her shoulders and obliques in a way that actually made Ben vaguely jealous. But it was also catching the lamplight from above the pool table, which he had not counted on. Good thing Hux was facing away from her, or he might have found himself blinded.

“So let me ask you,” Poe interrupted again, when barely a minute of silence had passed. Was he capable of silence? Ben had to wonder. “Because I made it a point to avoid them whenever possible, but were they like this back in high school?”

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about what you mean by ‘like this’.” 

“Like . . . I’m just trying to recall the dynamic. Because really, the three of you were an odd grouping.”

That was fair. Ben could remember thinking so, too, at school. He wasn’t about to air Phasma and Hux’s personal business in front of Poe and Finn; for however much this project was seeing the lot of them becoming closer in some ways, it wasn’t his place. But there were some details he expected the other two knew and had merely forgotten.

“Like this? No,” he explained. “They bonded after Hux’s mom passed away. Sophomore year, I think?”

“What, like some Oedipal thing?”

Ben fixed Poe with a chilly stare. “No. That’s not even what that means. Don’t be so . . .” He shook his head and let the matter drop. This was almost a civil conversation. “I mean, they were already friends because their parents knew each other, so when his mom died, she was there for him. Maybe it was like she’d lost a parent, too. I don’t know. I wasn’t privy to it. I didn’t really want to be. But I was already friends with Phasma by then, and we were all in Model U.N., so I sort of just . . . became friends with Hux, too.”

Or stopped hating him. It was no secret that Ben and Hux had not liked one another for the first year or so at high school—for that matter, the same could be said of Ben and Rey, though _that_ had had a much slower evolution. This had been different. Ben saw far more of Hux outside of club activities due to nearly identical class schedules in those early years, so whatever sense of rivalry existed between them was compounded by the frequency of their interactions. They clashed too often to find any reason to establish a common ground; at least, until Phasma essentially forced the issue. Dislike became tolerance, and tolerance eventually turned into something close enough to friendship that Ben was willing to let himself consider it such. He suspected what they’d had since then was as close as Hux got to it.

“Model U.N.?” Finn sounded distant, like he was recalling everything anew. “God, Phasma really was an overachiever. It wasn’t enough she had to fight until she was football captain, she was also going around . . . pretending to run the world after hours.”

Ben scoffed. That wasn’t what MUN had been about at all. He’d ended up liking it, in the end, but only joined initially to appease his mother’s incessant suggestions. She was not one to drop subtle hints. 

“So what you’re saying is,” Poe interrupted, diverting the conversation again. “You didn’t write their scene out of some secret knowledge of deep-seated desires on either of their parts?”

“No.” 

Ben glanced at the pool table. God, they were in tune with each other. Poe probably wasn’t wrong to think they must have done this before. Phasma had her hands back on Hux’s hips now, simultaneously supporting him and slowing the pace of his movements against her. That intensity was still there, but she wasn’t coy about the degree to which she was enjoying this; Hux had begun to fold, his posture softening as she brought him closer to coming. It occured to Ben that what he’d read as near disinterest in Hux was more likely a very deeply internal focus on whatever sensations Hux was experiencing, and how to prolong them. Evidently, it was at a point now where that level of self-control was nearly impossible to maintain. 

“ _Come_ for me, squire.” Phasma leaned her upper body toward Hux a little as she thrust into him deliberately, a wide, slow grin spreading on her face. “Right now.”

What command Hux was holding over himself broke. When he came, it was accompanied by a long groan that built from almost nothing and a considerable amount of cum that left a mess on his thighs and hand. Seconds passed as he remained in the throes of it, hunched over himself with his hands braced on Phama’s legs. She was delighted, though Ben couldn’t help noticing she didn’t appear to be reaping quite the same benefits as Hux. Had she gotten off . . . at all? That hardly seemed fair to him, but hey, he wasn’t about the get picky, and if this was what they were both into . . .

“Cut!” 

He said it with less resolve than he’d intended, if only because he wasn’t certain whether he was depriving Phasma of her due. And frankly, as Hux was coming down and the two began to slowly disentangle themselves, Ben had to wonder if _Hux_ wasn’t waiting for something, too. He looked back briefly at Phasma, but she only flashed Ben a wicked smile and wagged her eyebrows when she saw she’d caught his eye. Something told Ben she would be seeing to the rest of her needs shortly, when she slipped off to the bathrooms to get changed. 

As for Hux, he regained his composure with almost eerie haste and climbed down off the pool table, shamelessly marching across the room to grab a robe and see himself out to clean up. The only thing that could have made it more typically Hux was if he’d had a drink in hand. Poe watched him go, then emitted a low whistle and turned back to his duty of dismantling the tripod.

 

+++

“You know what?” Rose asked as she helped Rey get the mics ready to pack up.

“Hmm?” 

It was only the second day of filming, but Rey was already getting used to this. All of them were amateurs when it came to making a movie, but she thought for all that, it was going well. She liked the organization of it. She liked the way it gave her something to look forward to aside from just another day of her usual routine of work and avoiding home as long as she could; even with Ben there, it was impossible to ignore that the place was distinctly uncomfortable. And she liked that it felt like a secret. Eventually it would be out there for really anyone to run across—that _was_ the goal—but until then, all of the staying out late to do something many would consider subversive was thrilling.

“I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask Phasma for some workout tips.”

Rey laughed and looked at Rose in surprise. “Okay, that’s not what I was expecting you to say at all. Though . . . it’s not a bad idea.”

“Exactly. And I bet she would. Doesn’t she work at a gym anyway?”

“Maybe?” Rey wasn’t entirely certain of Phasma’s career—aside from Hux, who was evidently at liberty to make his own schedule, she was the only one of the group who never seemed to be grappling with the issue of balancing an actual job with the odd hours this project demanded. “Actually, I don’t know, but if she doesn’t, she should. All those muscles, she just sort of looks like she’d belong there. She’s so . . . tall and strong.” 

“Yeah, totally. Tall and strong. Like one of those sexy marble statues from ancient Greece or whatever.”

They exchanged a look and laughed again. In Rose’s company, Rey didn’t mind making her admiration of Phasma’s physique so transparent. She wasn’t a complete stranger to fitness. She liked to run, because it didn’t cost any money and she could do it just about anywhere. She owned some old hand weights, too, and sometimes tried to sneak in a few chin-ups on the bar Ben had in his room. Last time she tried, she had disappointed herself. Chin-ups were hard, especially when it had been years since she had the time and funds for regular visits to Kelvin Rock Gym. But by God, she still had her stamina and endurance.

“You know who else is tall and strong?” Rose cast a very obvious look over to where Ben was hunched in front of one of the cameras, reviewing footage with an impassive look on his face. He was so serious and focused on what he was doing. They could probably have shouted his name and he wouldn’t have noticed. 

Rey scoffed dismissively but watched him for a few seconds. “I was almost as tall as him when we met, believe it or not. Then suddenly we were sixteen and he was towering over half the class.” And lanky as hell, until college. She remembered, because she’d had to survive his short-lived obsession with weird, chalky protein shakes shortly after they decided to try being roommates. The roommate thing had stuck; the protein shakes, not so much.

“Not fair at all,” Rose observed, squinting at him like she was trying to envision it. She shook her head and gave a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, so really, I can’t do anything about the height thing, but I think I could definitely pull off some defined biceps. At the very least. Right?”

Rose puffed herself up to her full height, which was still diminutive, and demonstrated by flexing her right arm. 

“Hm, no. More like this.” Suddenly Phasma herself was there, her hands on Rose’s arm, adjusting the way it was positioned. Indeed, when Phasma released her, Rose did seem to have developed more noticeable muscle definition over the last five seconds alone. “It’s mostly all lighting and angles.”

“Oh,” Rose said, quickly recovering her usual pluck despite the shock of Phasma’s abrupt and intimidating presence. “Thanks. I guess that’s handy if I ever take up flexing in gym mirrors and posting photos of my ass on Instagram.”

“I thought I heard my name and decided to come investigate.” Phasma looked amused. Her blonde hair was combed immaculately again, and the T-shirt and jeans she wore suggested she’d just come from a brief round of errands rather than from plowing Hux on camera while wearing a metal bra top and a vibrating strap on. Life was strange.

“You did,” Rey admitted. “We were just admiring your . . . ah. Well, actually. We wondered if you wouldn’t mind sharing some of your wisdom when it comes to working out. Right, Rose?”

As ever, Rose cut to the chase. “You have a hot bod and we need your knowledge.”

Phasma gave a single, short, very loud burst of laughter. Out of the corner of her eye, Rey saw Ben jump at the sudden sound. Evidently, it was possible to distract him after all. He glowered over at the three women when he realized what the commotion was, then went back to whatever he was doing.

“I’m flattered,” Phasma said. “Poor Finn. He’ll be so put out that you chose me over him. Isn’t he a personal trainer?”

“For something like this, we thought we’d rather have a woman’s opinion,” Rey explained. 

“Naturally. Anything specific in mind?”

“Uh, basic lifting routines?” Rose suggested. “Meal plans?” 

Rey smiled faintly, fully aware that her current outlook for “meal plans” included: whatever didn’t require heating up at home; whatever wasn’t perishable; whatever was the cheapest and largest drive-through deal; and, often, whatever Ben could get discounted from First Order. In her experience thus far, none of that lent itself to a fitness plan, especially once words like “macros” and “anabolic window” started getting thrown around. 

“How to convince the local gym I belong there without actually having to pay for a membership?” she joked.

“Ah, come with me, ladies. Meal plan number one: lots of red wine and good whiskey, which this place happens to have in great supply.” Phasma put an arm around each of them and led them away toward the staircase that, from what Rey remembered, led up to the kitchen. “And maybe have your phones out. Trust me, you’ll want to take notes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's playlist can be found on our greater Spotify playlist. Here is a song listing for you:
> 
> 7 // Our Lady of Copyright Infringement is Coming (post June 23)  
> Dancehall Domine - The New Pornographers  
> Hell Yes - Beck  
> The Bear and the Maiden Fair - The Hold Steady  
> Raspberry Swirl - Tori Amos  
> En Love - Lizzo  
> Milkshake - Riverdale Cast


	8. Tequila Pong is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After gaining a full understanding of the gravity of Ben and Rey's situation, the gang pools together to grant them a little reprieve as a holiday gift. Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to Dot for beta'ing this chapter, and thank you to all our wonderful readers for your lovely comments and feedback. We're hope you're having as much fun reading as we are having writing!

Come Friday night, Ben and Rey reconvened at the apartment after their respective days at work, which for Ben had felt particularly long. They ate in silence for a while. It struck him how this had become routine—huddled on the couch in their coats and blankets to avoid wasting heater fuel, eating out of plastic or styrofoam containers because they couldn't wash dishes, entertaining themselves by trying to identify what dissonant scented candles were burning—and how sad that was. It would be over soon. Just two days of filming left, maybe three if something got messed up and needed reshooting, which he would rather not happen. Tomorrow, he and Rey would film their scene. For the most part he’d been so busy he didn’t think of it often. But in the rare moments he wasn’t busy, particularly over the course of the last few days, it would invariably insinuate its way into his mind. 

The quiet was turning into one of those “not busy” moments, which meant he was starting to think of tomorrow again. At this point that mostly entailed running through the scripting and blocking and incessantly reminding himself to shave sometime before he left for Hux’s, interspersed with speculation about what Rey looked like naked and whether she was loud when she fucked. He didn’t really want to dwell on that with her sitting right there.

“How was work?” he blurted. 

She looked at him quizzically but sounded amused. “It was fine. Like I said when you asked me on the drive home. My opinion hasn’t changed.”

“Right, I remember.” He picked at a piece of chicken, wishing he’d put up more of a fight for the last piece of breast meat. The thigh he’d ended up with was greasier than expected and not the sort of thing he wanted to be putting in his body less than twenty-four hours before he’d be on camera naked and sweaty and thrusting and yeah . . . he was thinking about it again. “Just testing you.”

She laughed a little and folded her legs up onto the sofa. “Did I pass?”

“Yes.”

The silence settled again, but it wasn’t the comparatively comfortable one of a minute ago. Ben looked at the bucket of chicken and debated having another piece.

“Oh!” Rey moved forward to the edge of the couch and fixed him with a hard stare, a hand planted firmly on his knee, then said in a dramatic monotone, “It’s time.”

“For?”

“For the best part of the night.”

Ben raised his eyebrows and smiled slowly as understanding dawned: her scented candle guessing game. “Oh, yeah. So . . .”

“We’re going to do it a little differently this time. Tonight, I decided to create an _aesthetic theme_ ,” Rey declared, gesturing at the four candles burning throughout the room. “Care to guess what it is? If you can’t get it, I’ll tell you the names of the scents, and you can try again.”

“How generous of you,” Ben’s smile faded as he looked around the room and tried to focus. Whatever candles Rey had picked, the scents were all really strong. Tonight might be a headache night. “Do I get a prize?”

“Just the satisfaction of knowing you’re right. Isn’t that your favorite thing anyway?”

“You know me so well. Ahh, let’s see.”

Honestly, he had no idea how she expected him to discern individual scents (though he’d sneaked a look at the names when she was getting something from her room), let alone manage to figure out what ‘aesthetic’ she’d decided the combination suggested.

“I have no idea. Is the theme ‘Give Ben His First Migraine’?”

Rey chuckled and frowned at him. “No, but I’ll log that one away. Okay, try this way. The scents are: Winter Woods, Black Licorice, Peaches and Cream, and—”

“I read them, actually. Is there seriously a candle called ‘Man Town’?” Ben had stared at that one for several seconds, convinced he was hallucinating.

“You looked! Cheater!”

“I haven’t gotten any correct guesses for the last three nights,” he insisted, as if there were real stakes beyond his pride. This game was slowly corroding both his nasal passages and his dignity. “I needed to ended the streak.”

“ _Cheater_. And yes, there’s one called ‘Man Town’, and I own it, and you’re smelling it, right now. So. Since you know the notes, what do you think the theme is?”

“I . . .” He floundered and collapsed into the cushions. “Look, I really don’t know.”

“It’s our scene! ‘Winter is Cumming’!” She smacked him playfully on the arm and swept her other hand dramatically. “Winter? Forests? Or fortresses, now, I guess, but whatever. Black licorice, because that’s all I had that sort of reminded me of your costume.”

So much for having a conversation to keep himself from thinking about tomorrow. “I’m glad my costume reminds you of the most offensive candy conceived by man.” His appetite temporarily diminished, Ben tossed his plate onto the table. “Am I about to find out licorice is one of your turn-ons? Because I doubt I’ll have time to go out and get any, and I don’t think the Cuntslayer keeps a supply in his tunic.”

“Damn it!” Rey grinned at him and shrugged before helping herself to some more food.

Ben wasn’t sure how much he wanted to keep talking about why Rey had decided to concoct an olfactory symphony meant to evoke the circumstances in which they were going to be having sex tomorrow night. Probably as a joke. It was kind of funny. But they were on the topic now, which reminded him . . . 

“Oh. I picked up some condoms at the CVS on my break. I would’ve texted to ask if there’s a certain kind you prefer.” _Shut up, shut up, shut up_ . . . He kept rambling. “We got slammed right before lunch, though. I was sort of in a rush. I know we didn’t talk about it yet, but I didn’t want to find out tomorrow that both of us were assuming the other had it covered.”

“Right. Thanks.” She shook her head and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I should’ve made more effort to get that ironed out, too. It was just always one of us working, and I’ve had a lot on my mind, and then any time I _did_ remember—”

“—didn’t seem right.”

“Exactly. And yes. To the condoms. I know Finn and Poe didn’t bother, but we’re not them.”

“Obviously.” Ben nodded. “Yeah, I just thought, with money, and all, the way it’s been the last year or two.”

“That I’m not on anything?”

“I know it’s not my business, but it seemed relevant in this case.”

“It’s fine. This works. It’s safer either way. Not that I think you wouldn’t be. Safe.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“As much as I’d love to let you raw me.”

Ben was glad he wasn’t eating anything just then, because he definitely would have choked. “ _What_?”

“I’m joking!” She looked like she was getting way too much enjoyment out of his reaction, then suddenly she was serious again and shrugged. “I might have some condoms in my room still, actually. Though I’ll check what you bought later—newer might be best.”

“Good. So. That aside. You’re okay with everything we have scripted?” 

He didn’t want to seem like he was fixating on this, but he really needed to make sure it all went right tomorrow. So far, everything else had gone so smoothly with filming, early production hiccups aside. If it suddenly went south because of some problem with his scene, Ben would feel like complete shit, not only for himself but for Rey. She’d been like a rock through this. He wanted it to be as fun for her as she was expecting. She deserved that much at least.

“Yeah.” Rey leaned toward him and peered up at his face. She sounded like she couldn’t believe they were still going over this. “We wrote it weeks ago. I oversaw it. You . . . were really good about making sure there wasn’t anything in there I’m uncomfortable with, _and_ you made the revisions I asked for without bitching about it too much. It’s all fine. Perfect.”

He waved a hand. “Right, okay. I’m not trying to make this weird.” He trailed off, searching for the right words to express what he was thinking. 

“You’re making it a little weird right now, I have to say.”

“Come on. I just want to make sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

That got a few moments of silence, which made Ben nervous. 

“I will,” she assured him. “Believe me. I don’t want to say how long it’s been for me, but let’s just say I’ll be glad to end the spell.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

“It’s a statement. It isn’t about a script. It’s just sex.” She balled up a napkin and threw it at his face when he kept staring at the spread of fast food on the table. “Hey. I _trust_ you. And you trust me, right?”

“Right.”

“ _Right_. And I’m planning to have fun. So will you. We’ll both make sure of that. You’re getting stuck in your own head.”

“I’m aware,” he said. On one hand, it was sort of his job to have the whole thing set in his mind, from a directorial standpoint. But tomorrow, when he was a participant, thinking that way would more likely be a detriment. In an attempt to break himself out of the odd mood he was in, he cocked his head and glanced at her. “Any ticklish spots I should know about?”

Rey smiled broadly. “Not telling.”

“Strange moles?”

“Hey.”

“. . . hidden extra appendages?”

“Ben.”

“Just want to be prepared.” Ben leaned back on the sofa, propping his feet on the edge of the table and sighing heavily. “I thought you’d probably appreciate knowing about the _tattoo_.”

That got her. “Excuse me? The tattoo? I’ve seen you in a towel, and I’ve seen you in shorts. You don’t have a . . .”

He looked at her meaningfully and almost lost his affected coolness when her face contorted.

“Jesus, Ben, are you telling me you’ve got a tattoo on your—oh, wait. No.” Theatrically, she covered her mouth with a hand.

“No what?”

She looked coy. “You forbade me from saying the word ‘ _penis_.’” She mouthed the word exaggeratedly, her voice reduced to barely over a whisper. “And any other euphemism, if I remember right. And anyway, you’re lying. You don’t have any tattoos.”

“Hmm. So confident.” He just shrugged. She was right, of course, that he didn’t. But teasing her was helping him relax, and she tended to enjoy the banter when he did so. “Hey, do you remember that time over spring break in . . . I don’t know, it was probably freshman year, and we—”

A low, alarming hum that seemed to come from everywhere at once interrupted him and made them both jump a little. Something clicked, and suddenly, the room was full of light. Beautiful, miraculous electrical light. He squinted and looked at her, bewildered.

“Ben?”

“Uh huh.”

They both jumped to their feet, stumbling over a tangle of blankets as they lurched around the coffee table. The lights were back on. The power had just spontaneously returned. That was too good to be true. Ben stepped back to avoid being shoved aside as Rey dashed past him to the kitchen. He heard her feet pounding, and then the sound of the faucet sputtering as water gushed out of it for the first time in weeks. 

Rey shrieked in delight. “Ben! Holy shit! Get in here!”

He was already there, though, sliding across the floor in his socks, and when she turned around, still laughing and chattering incoherently (so was he, to be fair), she threw herself into him in a bone-crushing hug of elation. Lost in the moment, he intercepted her, wrapped her in his arms, and lifted her completely off her feet. They spun around a few times that way and may have kept going, but Ben wasn’t looking where exactly he was spinning and banged painfully into the kitchen table.

“Fuck.” He stumbled and dropped her onto the table top, and they halted, mashed together awkwardly as he regained his balance. “Sorry. You okay?”

But he was already laughing again. A moment later he realized how much he was still invading her space and backed away. 

“Am I okay?” she cried, gripping the sides of his sweatshirt hood where it was pulled up over his head and shaking him back and forth. She looked jubilantly unhinged. “I’m. Fucking. Amazing! The power’s back! The water’s back! The heat’s back! We can cook!”

“We can _shower_!”

“What the hell happened?”

“I have no idea. Do you think it’s a mistake?” He kept looking back to the running water, expecting it to prove an illusion or for them to be plunged into darkness again. It was difficult to resist the urge to run to the shower right now, in case the change was indeed temporary.

“It better not be, I’m looking forward to falling asleep in my actual bed tonight.”

For some reason her saying that gave Ben a strange feeling he couldn’t identify and didn’t like. It wasn’t as if he didn’t relate. He’d finally have space to actually stretch out, which meant he’d most likely wake up sans all the cramped legs and stiff necks he’d been experiencing since the whole sleeping together on the couch for warmth thing began. Also, Rey snored sometimes—it was actually pretty endearing but also made it difficult for him to fall asleep. So the return to a normal bed situation was good. He needed to be well-rested tomorrow. 

He didn’t have much time to parse any of this, though, because there was a knock at their door. At first he thought he had to be imagining it. Who would be visiting them right now, or at all?

“Don’t rush to get that,” Rey drawled, the first to recover from their frenzy as she hopped down from where he had dropped her on the table and brushed by him to get the door. 

Ben followed a few moments later, pausing only to turn the sink off and bask shortly in the glow of the kitchen’s ceiling lights. By the time he got to the living room, Rey already had the door open and appeared to be in mid-conversation with several individuals he couldn’t see. She was excited and roughly as coherent as she had been during their brief celebration in the kitchen. Which was to say, not very.

“You all did—you _didn’t_! You shouldn’t—oh, get in here, all of you, I can’t believe you—” 

She was shuffling back and waving their unexpected guests in. As Ben was beginning to suspect, the entirety of their ragtag movie crew was filing into the apartment. Rose and Finn led the way, followed closely by Poe, Phasma, and Hux. Most of them were carrying boxes or grocery bags, and all of them looked immensely pleased. Except Hux, whose bland expression took on a horrified cast the moment he crossed the threshold. 

“We paid to restore order _here_?” he asked, pausing just inside the door and barely moving aside for Rey to close it behind him. “It looks like a disaster zone. And smells like a Bath and Body Works.”

“We?” Poe said, making his way into the room like he lived there already. “Fux, you didn’t put anything down for this. That was the rest of us. By all accounts, you shouldn’t even be invited to this party.”

“I didn’t put anything down for this? Try _my entire house_ as your porno playground. There are going to be traces of you all on the counters and tables and sheets for months. You should be throwing _me_ a party.” Hux frowned and brushed past the rest of the group. “Don’t, by the way.”

“Party?” Ben finally found his voice again after staring at the procession and was choosing to ignore Hux’s comments. He wasn’t wrong; the apartment had seen far better days. 

Rey was shaking her head in disbelief as she watched them loiter around the coffee table. “You all really pooled your resources for this?”

“Kitchen’s that way,” Finn instructed, pointing with his chin to where Ben was still hovering just outside the kitchen. He threw a smile at Rey and bumped his shoulder to hers as the others began transporting their mysterious offerings into the other room. “Don’t act surprised, peanut. And don’t ask whose idea it was. I won’t tell.”

Rose winked as she grabbed Rey’s arm and dragged her along to join everyone back in the kitchen. Ben had little choice but to follow, since apparently that was where everyone was deciding to congregate for a party he had no say in planning.

“It only covers your delinquent bills from October, mind. So we’ve bought you a month,” Phasma was saying, as if the cost of those things alone was some small feat. She began pulling bottle after bottle out of a large brown bag and setting them on the counter: whiskey, tequila, rum, several types of juice. It was like watching Mary Poppins dig around in her carpet bag and come up with improbable amounts of booze instead of lamps and hat stands. Meanwhile Finn, who had been lugging two cases of cheap beer, set them loudly down next to the liquor. Phasma waved a hand. “But by then you won’t need to worry about it any longer.”

“We’ll—oh God.” Rey shook her head, still overwhelmed. She leaned back against the stove as the bustle continued around her. Solemn, she said, “This is too much. We’ll repay you all, I swear. Once we’re able. You didn’t have to—”

“No,” Rose chided. “There’s no need. Consider it a gift in the spirit of the season.”

Rey laughed and looked on the verge of tears, then met Ben’s eyes. He was still lingering in the kitchen doorway, flummoxed, but crossed over to her when she beckoned him. She grinned up at him wide-eyed and, when he didn’t react immediately, squeezed his hand in hers.

“Can you believe this?” she whispered as everyone else continued to set up for the festivities.

Ben watched Rose setting out what was beginning to look like a rather involved cheese and cracker plate, then passed Rey a napkin so she could wipe her eyes. “Strangely, yes.” 

“You _can_ repay us, actually,” Poe qualified. “By letting us throw our little pre-wrap party here, now that we’re homing in on the end of this thing. It’s a gift to all of us, from all of us. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds like you aren’t giving us a choice on the matter regardless,” Ben said. Poe was standing there spreading several boxes of pizza across the table.

“Good take,” Finn said. “You planning to put up a fight anyway?”

“No, he’s not.” Rey dug a playful elbow into Ben’s side before pushing away from the stove to help get everything set up. “We could both use some fun, and you’ve all spoiled us. I’ll go see if I can find us some games.” 

“Solo’s set of _Dungeons & Dragons_ doesn’t count,” Phasma called over her shoulder.

Rey cackled and turned out of the kitchen to disappear down the hall, narrowly missing a collision with Hux as he finally deigned to join them all. Ben wasn’t sure what he’d been doing until that point, but he suspected it involved walking around the living room and itemizing everything according to how wanting or tacky he found it.

“Hey, Phas. Eat me,” Ben shot back. There was no real malice in his tone, though, and he was on the verge of grinning. 

“Sorry, can’t. You didn’t write us a scene together.”

“An oversight, I promise.” He picked up a bottle of marshmallow-flavored vodka and furrowed his brow. “Want some help setting up the bar?”

This wasn’t how he’d been planning to spend the night. But his original plan of trying to keep his mind off tomorrow by any means possible had been failing miserably. What he and Rey were talking about when the power returned was proof enough of that. A small party now didn’t seem like the worst idea. 

So, initial reluctance aside, Ben was soon enough a very willing participant in the impromptu celebration. Rey did indeed heed Phasma’s warning to keep away from his collection of tabletop games (he wondered if Phasma knew that _Dungeons & Dragons_ was the least of it—Rey certainly did, given the many times he’d roped her into a long game of _Risk_ or _Warhammer_ or something more obscure like _The Resistance_ ) and opted instead to bring out some simpler card-based games from her own stock for those who were so inclined. 

By the time the party was reaching its second hour, Ben found himself holed up in the kitchen with Rey, Finn, and Rose, fifteen minutes into a game of beer pong. Everyone had long since moved the pizzas, and really most of the food, out to the living room, which left the kitchen table open to be commandeered for the game. 

“I hate to ask this,” Rose began, clapping a hand on Ben’s shoulder with a familiarity he had not previously thought existed between them as she walked past him to rejoin Finn at her end of the table. “But are you actually familiar with how beer pong works?”

She didn’t sound like she hated to ask at all. But she was clearly edging past tipsy by now, so she probably thought that her tone was contrite. 

“I’m very familiar. Ask Rey, she was present for some particularly hard-won victories back in college.”

Rey spluttered a laugh and looked at him incredulously. She was holding a cup of beer from which she had just extracted the ping pong ball Finn used to score on it. “Hard-won victories? I don’t recall those.”

“And, well, usually, beer pong involves . . . drinking the beer?” Rose pointed from her end of the table to the cups sitting in front of Rey and Ben. Rey continued to dither over draining the cup they’d just removed from play. Now Ben saw why. Evidently, conspiracy was afoot. “You keep making Rey drink them. That’s not fair.”

“Totally not fair. This is a _team sport_ , Solo,” Finn agreed. He’d wound an arm around Rose’s waist when she returned and kept tucking and untucking his hand from the front pocket of her joggers. Every so often she would squirm against him and laugh a little, or whisper something in his ear that would make his eyes widen. Ben bit back an urge to tell them to get a room—they might choose his, and he didn’t like the odds. “Hah! Maybe that’s why you don’t get the concept of playing in groups? Soooo-looooo?”

Rose laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, and Rey joined in a moment later, leaning against Ben as she shook. It was barely clever. He’d been hearing that joke or some variation of it for years. Frankly, he was shocked no one had yet come after him waving one of the red cups they were using tonight in his face, pointing emphatically to the embossed logo on the side of it. There was still time for that; he wouldn’t write it off yet.

Rey piped up next to him. “Especially given that I need to be all naked on camera tomorrow. You _want_ me to be bloated?”

Ben doubted very much that there was anything that could make Rey look less than lovely tomorrow, but he kept that to himself. It might make her feel weird to hear that from him, even if it was true and he only meant it as a friend.

“No, I don’t. But I also don’t want _me_ to be bloated. Since, you may recall, I’m also going to be ‘all naked on camera tomorrow.’” 

Ben would have supplied some truly caustic air quotes to go with that, but he had a ping pong ball in one hand and his current beverage of choice in the other. He’d been drinking tonight, somewhat against his better judgment, but he was sticking to tequila or vodka. Maybe throwing some seltzer in there for variety. Poe still hadn’t tired of making fun of it every time he was reminded (which was every time he saw Ben with a cup in his hand), despite the fact that all Ben had seen Poe drinking was shitty beer.

“Yeah, well, it’s not called ‘tequila pong,’ so stop dicking around and be an actual team mate, eh?” Rey demanded as she made a grab for his cup. 

Ben didn’t put up much of a fight, if only because there was no shortage of replacement alcohol. He watched as she took his drink and marched it across the room, where she left it to rest on a rare bit of open counter space. When she returned, she thrust her cup of beer at him, took his chin in one of her hands, and glared up at him. “Ben Solo, you put that cup to those pillowy lips of yours, do your duty, and drink that Natty Light.”

 _Pillowy lips_? “Christ, this game is supposed to be fun,” Ben muttered, even as he tipped his head back and chugged whatever was in the cup. It was warm, watered down, and unpleasant, and there was more of it in the cup than he’d expected. He coughed a little as he swallowed. “That was disgusting. Who chose that?”

“Like we got it for the flavor,” Finn said as Rose chuckled, shaking her head at Ben’s ridiculous complaint.

“Light beer is a crime against humanity.” He caught Rey’s eye and returned a small smile to show that protestations aside, there were no hard feelings.

Rose tried to steady herself in front of her end of the table, waving her arms over the cups to try to throw her opponents off. Ben rolled his eyes, gesturing to Rey to throw the ping pong ball first. The whole group appeared to be far drunker than he was, and he wanted desperately to either catch up, or disappear completely.

He resigned himself to the former the instant he downed the last of whatever liquor he’d mixed in the cup he’d recovered from where Rey had “hidden” it on the counter. It was _strong_.

Rey giggled and then launched the ping pong ball much too quickly at the cups on Finn and Rose’s end of the table. It bounced off the rim of a cup and flew between the two of them, towards the wall. “I’ve got it!” Rose wailed, nearly falling over in her scrambling attempt to retrieve the flying ball.

“Don’t fall!” shouted Finn, trying to catch her even though Rose was deliberately attempting to kneel down and one of his hands was occupied holding a cup.

In their frenzy to catch the ball, the two stumbled across the hallway where Hux was currently trying to walk to the restroom. Poe watched with amusement, having just finished in said restroom, as Finn’s entire drink spilled down Hux’s front.

The whole room went silent, all eyes on Hux.

Finn stared in horror at the way his Natty Light soaked into the crisp, pressed white button-down shirt Hux wore beneath his red tie and black jacket. Even at a drinking party, Hux dressed to the nines. 

“Oh shit,” Finn mumbled as he realized what happened.

“ _Oh shit_ , indeed,” Hux snarled. “You’re going to pay for that. This suit is worth more than your—”

“Alright there, Fux, that’s enough,” Poe said, reaching out to pull Hux past Finn before any fists flew or worse words were said.

Poe knew that discussing Finn’s past, or his worth, were touchy subjects that were best avoided, especially when inebriated. “Don’t call me that!” Hux protested.

He did, however, allow Poe to pull him further down the hallway towards the restroom. “Alright, buddy. Okay. Come on, Hux,” Poe said, growing more serious as he dragged him down the hallway and away from the situation. 

Hux fixed his worst possible glare on Finn, and while Finn tried not to let his temper get the better of him, Ben sank a ping pong ball easily in one of the cups. 

“This party is _ridiculous_ ,” Hux muttered. “We haven’t even wrapped on filming yet, and I . . .” he looked down at his suit and sighed. “I smell like _cheap beer_.”

Poe chuckled. “You smell like a good time, then,” he said.

Hux glared again. He did not find this amusing. 

“Well, let’s get you out of that, and then if you hate this party so much, we can go,” Poe suggested. He unbuttoned the front of Hux’s suit jacket and pushed it off of him gently. He laid the jacket down on the bed behind them—Rey’s, clearly, based on the brightly colored blankets. “We’ll do a few shots of the really good liquor and then . . . go somewhere.”

Poe shrugged off his leather jacket so he could unzip the hoodie he’d been wearing beneath it. He still wore a plain grey shirt beneath the jacket, having layered up for the weather. Hux took a few deep breaths as he unbuttoned the stained white shirt. “Leave it here,” Poe said as Hux laid the shirt down, meticulously folded, on the bed next to the jacket. “We can get it later.”

“We?” Hux asked.

Poe chuckled, offering the hoodie to Hux, who scoffed. “C’mon, Hux. You’re going to smell like beer no matter what, at least wear this to smell it a little _less_ ,” Poe said. “Then, like I said, we can get out of here, since you hate this party so much.”

“Again— _we_?”

Hux watched Poe through narrowed eyes. He didn’t take the hoodie, and he didn’t say anything else. He wanted to know what Poe would do. 

“You’re stubborn. I like that.” Poe brushed off Hux’s question, the implications clear enough. Hux understood, and Poe wasn’t going to spell it out for him. “I’m gonna go grab us some shots before we go.”

He tossed the the hoodie to Hux, who fumbled as he caught it. As Poe left the room, Hux stood, puzzling over the garment for a moment before shrugging it on. On the bright side, if he left with Dameron, people wouldn’t see him walking around in a _fucking hoodie_. But on the other side of things, if he left with Dameron, everyone would make assumptions.

They wouldn’t necessarily be _wrong_ assumptions, but if there was one thing he despised, it was gossip at his expense.

With a heavy sigh, he zipped the hoodie halfway up and left the room.

  
\+ +

“Oh Rey!” Rose said in a singsong voice, standing at the doorway to the living room.

The game of beer pong had been abandoned shortly after Ben and Rey completely obliterated Rose and Finn, leaving the latter party quite more inebriated than they’d been when the game started. Phasma sat on the sofa, a red cup full of a rather delicious concoction that Rey kept stealing sips of.

“I can just make you one, when Rose is done,” Phasma offered to Rey.

Rey, who had settled down next to Phasma and was half draped over the much taller woman, looked up at her with a blindingly bright grin. “Would you?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, but first, Rose wants your attention,” Phasma reminded her with far more patience than she ever kept for anyone else.

Rey looked up at Rose, who was smiling and waving from the doorway. Rose’s hair was a mess, little curls flopping around by her cheeks, which had a bit of a red flush to them. But she looked happy, and to be frank, so did everyone else.

Even _Ben_ appeared to be having a good time, now.

And well, Hux hadn’t been, but he’d left with Poe so very quickly, Rey was sure he would be having a good time, too.

“Girls to Rey’s bedroom! Come on!” Rose demanded with a mischievous grin on her face.

Finn let out a disgruntled noise of protest, but Rose insisted that he not join them. He glanced over at the kitchen counter where Ben sat on a stool, doing trick shots with a quarter into a Six Flags shot glass.

Resigned to his fate, Finn chugged the rest of his Natty Light before going to the counter, flocking towards the harder liquors they’d unpacked earlier in the evening. Rey followed Rose excitedly into her bedroom, Phasma trailing at a safe distance behind.

“What’s going on?” Rey asked, her words slurring just a bit.

She loved this feeling, being drunk—her limbs moved freely, her words came easier, and she found that in this state it was far easier to make people smile—Ben, especially. It also meant she got much more excited about surprises, like this one.

Rose spotted Hux’s stained shirt and jacket on the bed and haphazardly tossed them aside onto the floor in the corner. All of Hux’s meticulous folding had been for naught, and a smile played on Phasma’s lips as she imagined the reaction he would have to their handling of his clothes. “Sit down!” Rose instructed Rey. “Phas and I have a surprise for you!”

“You do?” 

Phasma put a hand on Rey’s shoulder and coaxed her into sitting onto her bed. Rey scooted back, all the way up to the pillows, eagerness written clear across her face. Phasma joined her, long legs outstretched on the bed. “We thought you might want something for tomorrow,” Phasma explained as Rose dug through her overnight bag.

“Tomorrow? You mean my scene with Ben?” Rey asked. “I think we have everything. He bought condoms, and I don’t think I’ll need any lube, and . . .”

“Not something like _that_ ,” Rose corrected. She pulled out a half crumpled Victoria’s Secret bag and held it out to Rey. “Something like _this_.”

Rey looked from Rose, to Phasma, and then back to Rose. “You guys already paid our bills, and now you’re buying me things?” Rey asked, her eyes suddenly much shinier. “I’m—”

“Alright, no tears,” Phasma said, patting Rey’s back. She hadn’t been prepared to witness Rey experiencing such a spectrum of emotions when drunk. However, it wasn’t as irritating as it could have been. She chalked that up to her drink. “We want this movie to do well just as much as you and Ben, and with this . . . you will definitely be the star of the show.”

“His reaction will be _priceless_ ,” Rose added as she climbed onto the bed and knelt facing Rey.

Confused, Rey asked, “It will?”

“Yes!” Rose cheered. “He doesn’t know it’s coming! He’s seen your dress and thinks he’s got it all under control. So think about how he’s going to react when he sees _this_.” Rose shook the bag in front of Rey’s face again.

She finally took the bag and riffled past the tissue paper with a look of suspicion on her face. Her fingers caught on smooth, silky fabric, and she pulled out a wad of white lace. As she began to spread it out, she realized what it was.

“You bought me lingerie?” 

“Yes!” Rose squealed. “It’ll look so pretty against your skin, not to mention it’s the perfect color for your character, and—”

“And the look on Solo’s face when he sees is going to be _magnificent_ ,” Phasma added. She couldn’t deny that she was rather excited anytime she could ruffle his feathers.

Besides, she could always appreciate a beautiful body—man or woman—and Rey certainly had one.

Rey held the delicate bra in her hands, fingers brushing over the lace. It was so soft under her touch, and it wouldn’t hide much. There was enough to push up what small breasts she had, with a little ruffled hem at the bottom that would brush over her flat stomach nicely. The panties were . . . not much of anything, if Rey was being completely honest, but the thought of wearing a lacy thong, barely hiding her modesty from Ben, was rather exciting.

“Just make sure he doesn’t rip them,” Rose said as Rey held up the few bits of fabric that passed for panties. “They’re expensive and should get you laid at least five or six times before you let that happen.”

Rey snorted, halfway between crying from their kindness and kicking them out so she could try it on. The kindness of her friends always astonished her—and on this day in particular, their support was rendering Rey speechless and emotional.

“You guys . . .” she muttered, setting the panties down. She looked up at Rose, and then Phasma. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Just say thank you,” Phasma replied calmly. She patted Rey’s back again; the girl really was _quite_ emotional when drunk.

Rey swallowed past a lump in her throat and nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Rose replied, a satisfied smile on her face.

“I should be thanking you, too,” Phasma added. “I fully intend on getting video footage of Solo losing his cool when he sees you in those. He’s going to be a _mess_.”

“You think so?” Rey wondered.

Rose laughed. “Of course!”

“He’s a man. You’re a beautiful woman,” Phasma told her. “Surely you’ve noticed the way he looks at you. So, you’ve also got that going for you.”

Rose nodded in enthusiastic support of Phasma as Rey’s eyes bugged out.

Suddenly, her nerves about the next day were doubling, tripling, quadrupling in an instant, and her face went ashen. “Alright, enough of that,” Phasma declared, realizing she’d said a bit too much. “Have some of this. We need to get this party going again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's playlist for your listening pleasure: 
> 
> 8 // Tequila Pong is Coming  
> I Don’t Feel Like Dancin - The Scissor Sisters  
> Hot Tonight - Tokyo Police Club  
> I Love My Friends - Foster the People  
> Hold It In - Jukebox the Ghost  
> Satellite Mind (Surf Remix) - Metric  
> My Kind of Guy - Kaiser Chiefs


	9. The Rebel is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the party winds down, Poe and Hux share an Uber and end up back at the Supremacy. Meanwhile, Finn and Ben end up alone, together, and manage to find some common ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to our beta Dot, and to all you lovely readers <3
> 
> Do heed the warnings on this chapter. NSFW smut (in more detail than previous chapters) abounds!

“So . . .” 

Hux stood reluctantly in the foyer of his dad’s house, Dameron’s stupid zip-up hoodie covering his bare chest, the smell of beer still stuck on his skin.

“So?”

Poe chuckled at Hux’s brashness. They’d taken an Uber over together, and it was sort of an unspoken thing that Poe was going to hang around when he’d gotten out of the car and followed Hux up the drive and Hux hadn’t corrected him. Now they stood awkwardly inside the closed door, looking at each other in dead silence.

“So, you gonna show me your room, or do we have to do it right here?”

They’d watched each other fuck other people, which in itself bred a certain degree of familiarity, but that didn’t mean they were all that comfortable with each other. This was new territory for Hux, doing more than just bantering with Poe. What he and Phasma did was to scratch an itch. Purely physical. It was whatever they needed to make it through to the next hookup.

Which apparently, for Hux, was Poe Dameron.

“Yes, alright,” Hux sighed.

He made a move to go up the stairs, but Poe was in his way, smirking in that cocky way that made Hux incredibly irritated. It was really unfair, how good he looked like this. Drunk and disheveled and confident that he was going to get his way. Hux was just flushed an unattractive shade of pink—one of the more unpleasant effects of alcohol.

“Well, are we going to my room or not?” Hux asked, annoyed.

“Gimme a kiss first.” Poe laughed. He was standing one step up, putting them almost eye to eye. He braced his arms on the railings of the staircase and watched Hux, waiting for some sort of reaction.

Hux rolled his eyes. “This is _my_ house, shouldn’t _I_ be making the rules?”

Poe snorted and reached out one hand to rest it at the side of Hux’s face, fingers drifting through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I saw your scene the other day,” he replied simply. “You like being told what to do.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hux frowned and said, “Do not _caress_ me. We’re not in _love_.” He nearly spat the word out. Poe didn’t move. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Poe nodded, brushing his thumb over the sharp line of Hux’s jaw. 

“Can we get this over with?”

Poe chuckled. “You know, Fux. I’m gonna be the best you ever had.” 

Hux narrowed his eyes at Poe’s cockiness. The likelihood of that seemed slim, though Hux certainly wasn’t going to say that out loud. The last thing Dameron needed was a challenge in which he’d try too hard to prove himself. “C’mon,” Poe coaxed. “Gimme a kiss.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Poe nodded with a laugh. “But for just three installments of some good half-drunk hookups, I could be _your_ idiot.”

Hux’s expression twisted into confusion and incredulity. “Did you just imitate a _commercial_?”

“I’ve had a lot to drink.” Poe shrugged. 

He brought his other hand off the railing to rest it against Hux’s cheek. That touch slowed the moment down a lot.

When their eyes met, there wasn’t a sound in the house save for their own breathing, and the moment really settled over them. Hux didn’t step away, even as Poe held his face so tenderly—romantically, if he’d dare to use the word. It was a strange situation to be in. Hux hadn’t been with a partner quite so affectionate in a very long time.

“Kiss me,” Poe begged again.

This time, Hux obliged. He stepped forward, pressing his mouth to Poe’s with far more passion or energy than Poe’d thought him capable of. In his scene with Phasma, Hux had been calculated. Almost robotic. But now he stood, Poe on the stair above him, fingers clutching at Poe’s stupid leather jacket as he kissed him with fervor, with _want_.

Hux would never confess it out loud, but Phasma had been his only partner for much longer than he’d care to admit. He was rather excited about feeling a real dick inside him again, especially with someone like Dameron, who made it no secret that he got around and knew what he was doing. 

Poe held Hux’s face in his hands with a tenderness that he couldn’t explain, one hand drifting further back, his fingers carding through Hux’s surprisingly soft hair. “Where’s your room?” Poe asked. He couldn’t remember where it was, even though he was sure Hux had pointed it out way back on their first day of filming.

“This way,” Hux replied, not even feigning his haughty indifference anymore.

His cheeks were flushed an inelegant red and he unabashedly took Poe’s hand as he led him up the stairs. Nothing about this situation was familiar for Hux, but he’d thrown all expectations and standards out the window. Tonight, he was tipsy, and he was going to have fun, even if it meant sleeping with _Poe Dameron_. As loath as Hux might be to admit it, Poe had grown up well and if he wanted to go to Hux’s room, Hux could make an exception. Just for one night.

They didn’t even make it across the threshold of Hux’s bedroom before Poe kissed him again. He had Hux pinned up against the doorframe, one hand at the front of the hoodie he’d lent to Hux after Finn had spilled beer all over him. Poe clutched the front of the hoodie and pulled, making Hux bend over, trying to save himself the indignity of having to stand on his tiptoes to reach Hux’s mouth.

Hux grappled out, grumbling against Poe’s lips when his hands found the stupid leather jacket again. “Get this _off_ ,” Hux demanded, the words mumbled against Poe’s lips.

Poe chuckled, bemused. “What?” he asked, turning his head to start pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against Hux’s neck. “Don’t you like it?”

And when stupid Dameron found the most sensitive part on Hux’s neck right at that moment, Hux shuddered. He was falling to pieces under Poe’s touch and it was _humiliating_ and yet felt far better than any other experience Hux had had in years. Dameron certainly _did_ know what he was doing.

“Not particularly,” Hux breathed. “Isn’t the point of this to take our clothes _off_?”

Poe leaned away. He let the jacket fall from his shoulder just slightly, but smirked up at Hux and pointedly didn’t take it off completely. “C’mon, undressing each other is half the fun.”

Hux rolled his eyes and walked into his room. “I’m already halfway there thanks to this _ridiculous_ sweatshirt,” Hux complained.

Poe followed him into the room and gazed around, keeping judgment from his face. The place was as clean and meticulous as the rest of Hux’s life, it seemed.

It was a big deal, Hux letting him in here. If memory served, the first time they walked around the house together, Hux didn’t open the door—he just pointed to this one and said it was his. Now, Poe was getting an up close and personal look at Hux and his home life.

Not a single item looked out of place in his bedroom. The sheets were pulled up tightly across the bed, there was no clutter to be found. Every possible thing that could be organized, was. “You don’t relax much, do you?” Poe asked.

“I relax enough, in my own way,” Hux replied curtly. He turned to look at Poe. “Now, are we doing this, or not?”

Poe sighed and stepped closer to Hux—slowly, as though trying not to spook him. “Like I said . . . relax. We’ll get there,” Poe said. “Enjoy the journey.”

Hux rolled his eyes. 

“Kiss me,” Poe commanded again.

Following orders—that Hux could do. He did it at work, he did it when his dad was home, he did it with Phasma—he could do it with Poe, too. Arguing got exhausting, after a while, and often complying would help him more in the long term.

So Hux leaned in and pressed his mouth to Poe’s, the strength of it pushing him backwards, towards the other side of the doorframe. Poe laughed and reached up, tangling his hands in Hux’s already messy hair as he rested his full weight against the doorframe.

Poe’s scruff left little scratches on Hux’s mouth, along his jaw as Poe started to trail kisses down his neck again. Hux’s mouth dropped open and he let out an embarrassing breathy sound that only fueled Poe on further. He let his teeth graze Hux’s neck, and was met with a gentle tug of his hair in response. 

“What?” Poe asked, looking up at Hux. “Don’t want people to know about us?”

It was a dumb way to ask, he knew, but he wanted to leave marks on Hux, let people know what they’d done.

“I have to work a _professional job_ , unlike you,” Hux replied. “You can’t leave hickeys.”

Poe smiled at Hux, his dark eyes full of mirth. “Alright, that’s fair,” he nodded. “No hickeys.”

Poe reached out and took hold of the zipper on the hoodie Hux was wearing. The hoodie fell open, the cool air on Hux’s chest causing him to let out a soft hiss in response. “What if I left a mark here?” Poe asked, leaning in to graze his lips over Hux’s collarbone.

His lips slowly formed a pout, leaving a hot, wet kiss on Hux’s silken, unmarred skin. Goosebumps pebbled along Hux’s pale flesh. “Or here?” Poe added, pressing another slow, lazy kiss against Hux’s sternum.

Hux was trying desperately to keep his composure, but his eyes were shut and he was biting his lip in a way that told Poe he had completely gotten under this man’s skin already. Poe smiled as he leaned back and took in the sight of Hux unraveling beneath his touch. He pushed the hoodie off of Hux’s shoulders and then let his own leather jacket finally fall to the floor. 

That gesture made Hux open his eyes, and when he looked at Poe, he was surprised to see that Poe appeared to be as disheveled and flushed as Hux felt. “This is still a little unfair,” Hux said, looking down at his bare chest, and then to the grimy-looking white shirt Poe was wearing.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Poe asked, looking down at his shirt, and then back up at Hux.

Hux reached out and took hold of the hem of Poe’s shirt. Then, he pulled upwards, removing the offending article of clothing, the two of them _finally_ getting somewhere. Hux stared at Poe’s bare chest, at how surprisingly broad and strong he looked considering he was so much smaller than Hux was. “You can touch,” Poe said cockily. “I don’t bite.”

Hux wanted so badly to roll his eyes, but refrained in favor of reaching out and brushing his hands over his chest. He relished in the way his body responded to his touch, nipples pebbling beneath the pads of Hux’s thumbs. Poe watched Hux’s expression, an eyebrow raised, as this man seemed to test the waters more hesitantly than he’d expected.

Slowly, Poe reached out to rest a hand on Hux’s hip, the other hand reaching between them, fumbling with the belt on Hux’s trousers. “Kiss me again,” Poe demanded.

“You’re bossy.”

Poe smirked. “You like it.”

Hux kissed the cocky expression right off of Poe’s face. Poe rubbed one thumb against Hux’s hipbone, reveling in how silken his pale skin felt. It seemed so uncharacteristically soft for someone of Hux’s demeanor—the constant scowls and scorn. Poe’s other hand made quick work of unfastening Hux’s belt, his mouth distractedly moving against Hux’s. “Focus,” Hux demanded, his words lost on Poe’s pouty red lips.

“Now who’s bossy?” Poe laughed.

He leaned away, looking up into Hux’s eyes. Poe trailed his fingers in a feather-light graze down Hux’s chest, and he hesitated for just a moment to try to gauge Hux’s reaction. Hux stood, waiting for Poe to get on with it. 

“Are you drunk at all?” Poe asked, leaning in to mouth over Hux’s collarbone once again. The skin there was entirely too unmarred—a blank canvas just begging for Poe to mark him up, show to Hux that he was _his_ , even if it was only for one night.

“I handle my liquor quite well,” Hux replied.

“So you’re not?” Poe pressed, looking up at Hux again before kissing his sternum, trailing his mouth across Hux’s chest. His mouth found one of Hux’s nipples and bit at it experimentally.

Hux shuddered, one hand coming up instinctively to rest on Poe’s shoulder, halfway between coaxing him for more and making him stop so he could try to regain some semblance of control.

“I’m . . . ” Hux breathed, his eyes falling shut, head tipping back in pleasure as Poe mouthed at Hux’s chest, mouth on one nipple, a hand toying with the other. “Tipsy.”

“Sober enough to remember tonight?” Poe murmured into Hux’s skin, his lips now trailing even lower.

Hux didn’t have abs—at least not visible ones—but his stomach was still taut and flat, muscular in a way that Poe loved to feel beneath his lips. He kept kissing lower and lower, taking his time, steadying Hux by bracing his hands on hips. When Poe had lowered himself to his knees, he looked up at Hux, an eyebrow raised again. He wanted an answer.

When Poe’s attentions stopped, Hux sighed and tried so very hard to look irritated. “Yes,” he breathed. “I’ll remember this.”

That answer satisfied Poe more than Hux could imagine. Pleased, Poe hooked his fingers in the waistband of Hux’s trousers and briefs and tugged them down his legs. In an awkward jumble of limbs, Hux kicked off his shoes and the rest of his clothing, standing in nothing but his socks. Poe focused on Hux, his hardening cock right in front of his face. Poe touched him dry, stroking loosely, watching as Hux responded so positively to all this attention. “Anyone ever sucked you off before?” Poe asked before rather crudely spitting in his hand.

As he stroked Hux, waiting for an answer, Poe looked up. He watched Hux’s response—his flushed cheeks, the strand of hair swooping down in his eyes, the way Hux couldn’t keep his eyes open because it all seemed to be too good for him to handle. Even without an answer, Poe felt like he’d achieved his goal of getting Hux to loosen up and just have a good time.

“M— _mmph_ , yes. Of course,” Hux breathed, just as Poe wrapped his lips around the tip.

Hux’s hand flew to Poe’s messy curls, tangling in them instantly as he nearly buckled over at the feeling of the tip of his cock against Poe’s throat. Poe had clearly done this more than once—and Hux suddenly felt incredibly glad that he’d let Dameron in, given this a shot. Even if it was just a one-time thing.

Poe held himself there, swallowing around Hux like he was born to do this, and Hux let out a rather ungraceful squawk at the feeling. When Poe leaned away, Hux expected laughter—maybe even a mocking jest at the sound. But Poe didn’t. He just took a deep breath and put his mouth right where it had been before.

His hands were rough and calloused on Hux’s hips, steadying him as he nearly doubled over, fingers threaded through Poe’s curls. It was painstakingly obvious to both of them that Hux was enjoying this, being the sole recipient of Poe’s talent and attention. Poe was sloppy, a bit uncoordinated as he bobbed his head, using his hand to stroke whatever his mouth couldn’t reach. Each breathy sound tumbling from Hux’s mouth fueled Poe on further until he needed to desperately break away for air.

Poe leaned back on his heels, panting, his jeans very obviously tight in front—tighter than they were ten minutes ago, lightly stroking Hux as he looked up, trying to catch his gaze. After what felt like an eternity, Hux finally made eye contact.

When he did, Poe asked, “You ever sucked someone off?”

“On occasion.”

Poe brushed his thumb loosely over the tip of Hux’s cock, watching his expression change. Anytime he was touched, even gently like this, Hux’s whole expression loosened and Poe fucking _loved it_. “We could do it at the same time. D’you want to try?”

“I’m familiar with the concept of sixty-nining.”

Poe stood up swiftly—with more grace than he should ever be allowed to have, especially with a hard-on—and continued stroking Hux. “You want to be on top, or you want me to be?” Poe inquired.

Poe kept moving his hand, and Hux cursed himself for not being able to find his stupid voice. Dameron shouldn’t be able to have such an effect on him. He let out a shaky breath and Poe smirked. He let go of Hux in favor of holding his hips and pulling him closer. Hux moved pliantly under Poe’s hands for a moment before he fully came back to the situation.

“Stop treating me like I’m fragile,” Hux said with a huff.

“You want me to boss you around? Get all rough and impersonal?” Poe replied, a little defensively. “Because I can do that. But I think you don’t actually want that.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

Poe shook his head. “I mean, I have some ideas. But unless you tell me . . . ”

“I want you to be on top,” Hux said finally. “And I want you to stop treating me like I’m glass about to break.”

Poe watched as Hux climbed onto his own bed, tossing a few throw pillows out of the way so he could lay back against them, unabashedly, his cock hard and dripping just a little bit of precum on his stomach. 

“To be fair,” Poe said as he unfastened his jeans and kicked them off clumsily, “Your skin is the same color as that porcelain that my mom had those fancy creepy dolls made out of, so . . . you can’t blame me for getting that all mixed up in my head.”

“I think that was supposed to be a compliment?” Hux replied, narrowing his eyes.

Poe chuckled. “Yeah, sure,” he nodded, kicking off his boxers. “You’ve got pretty skin, Hux. It’s a shame you won’t let me leave marks.”

“I said none on my neck,” Hux clarified as Poe climbed onto the bed to join him. “I never made any rules about anywhere else.”

Poe leaned down to steal a cocky, sloppy kiss from Hux. “Good to know,” he smirked. “You may regret saying that, come tomorrow morning.”

Now it was Hux’s turn to laugh. Dameron couldn’t do _that much_ damage, surely. Poe swung his leg over, barely missing Hux’s head thanks to the alcohol in his blood, still making him unsteady. He straddled Hux, leaning down right away to take him into his mouth again, trying his best to interrupt so Hux couldn’t say something sarcastic or stupid. He knew the best way to shut him up was to make him see stars, to absolutely blow his mind.

Poe shuddered as he realized that Hux could definitely give as well as he could take. His hands were big and strong, braced on Poe’s hips, and he didn’t seem to have any qualms when Poe lost his self-control and rolled his hips down a little too hard. Hux let out a strangled choking noise when Poe did just that, but when he leaned away to apologize, Hux cut him off with a quick, “It’s okay.”

So Poe didn’t stop. Every so often his hips would cant down, pushing himself deep into Hux’s mouth, and he’d listen as Hux let out a low, pleased growl in response and gripped his hips extra hard. Poe teased between Hux’s legs with his hands as he sucked him off, drifting further back until Hux was rocking his hips upward, ready for more even if he wouldn’t say as much.

Both of them were flushed as Poe climbed off of Hux and sat cross-legged and unabashedly hard at the end of Hux’s bed, waiting for him to grab the lube and condoms from his ensuite bathroom. “After seeing you and Finn do your scene, we’re using these,” Hux said, tossing the condoms unceremoniously towards the bed.

“That’s fair,” Poe nodded good-naturedly. “Finn and I are—”

“I don’t want to know.”

Hux popped the cap on his bottle of lube and spread some out on his fingers. “No need to get jealous, Fux,” Poe said, crawling across the bed towards him. “He and I are just friends.”

Sighing, Hux climbed up on the bed and reached behind himself to prep for what they were about to do. “Hey…” Poe trailed off, hands reaching out to touch any part of Hux’s body he could reach. “You want help with that?”

Hux raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way Poe’s fingers drifted so gently down his arm.

“What?” Poe asked. “You know you don’t have to do it yourself, right?”

Hux rolled his eyes to hide the fact that he’d never had anyone who _wanted to_. Recently, his partners had wanted him to be ready to go as fast as possible—including Phasma, though she meant well by it. “I’m fine,” Hux replied finally.

Poe responded by pulling Hux into a rushed, heated kiss. His fingers tangled in Hux’s smooth red hair, and he held their bodies close as they knelt on the bed. Poe didn’t hesitate to reach his free hand back, to graze his fingers gently over Hux’s hand where he opened himself up with a factual sort of touch that was not nearly sexy enough, in Poe’s humble opinion.

“Alright, come on, no more of that,” Poe said, slipping his hand into Hux’s, making him stop. Hux looked at Poe oddly before Poe instructed, “Lay down. On your back, let’s go.”

Poe knew there was only about a fifty percent chance of Hux actually obeying at this point, but he was glad to see that he _did_. Poe then took the liberty of slicking up his fingers and sliding them down between Hux’s legs. Poe straddled Hux’s thigh and kissed him lazily as he opened him up, taking that opportunity to press kisses against Hux’s neck.

Hux tangled his fingers in Poe’s hair, closing his eyes and savoring the way he could feel Dameron’s hard cock against his thigh. The feeling of Poe grinding against him, somehow turned on by _him_ of all people, made Hux’s heart race. He tried very hard to relax and enjoy the moment, but occasionally had to pull on Dameron’s hair to remind him not to leave marks. 

“Alright, alright,” Poe laughed into Hux’s shoulder as he eased in a second finger. He dragged his mouth lower, down to Hux’s silky smooth collarbone. “No marks on the neck. I promise.”

Instead, he put all his energy into leaving dark red and purple marks along Hux’s collarbone, a reminder of what they’d done for Hux to look upon for days. _That_ was what it took to get Hux to get out of his own damn head. Poe only had to finger him open and leave marks on his perfect skin and suddenly Hux was completely pliant under his touch. He seemed to _trust him._

That power astonished Poe and left him feeling giddy and a little nervous as he leaned away to put a condom on. 

Hux watched as Poe fumbled with the condom, how the man who was usually so cocky became nervous all of a sudden. Snarky words waited at the tip of Hux’s tongue, but they disappeared as soon as Dameron’s stupid dark eyes met his, and they looked at each other in total silence for a moment.

Hux took a deep breath and parted his legs a little further, a silent signal that he was ready. Poe knelt between his legs and hooked his arms beneath them, adjusting their bodies so he’d be at the right angle, so he wouldn’t hurt Hux.

This wasn’t usually the way Hux did this—there was too much intimacy, eye contact, _vulnerability_. It left Hux feeling jittery and nervous, like this was his first time all over again. But it _wasn’t_ ; he’d just done this in front of a camera, for God’s sake. Yet it felt so incredibly different, the way Dameron leaned down and connected their lips, the kiss suddenly slow and tender. They weren’t arguing or fighting or bantering. They were . . . something else now. Something foreign to Hux.

Dameron kissed him, slow and soft as he reached down between their bodies and lined himself up. Hux gasped, stealing air from Poe’s mouth as he closed his eyes and felt his body taking in Dameron’s length easily, pliantly. He vaguely registered the gentle kisses Poe peppered on his mouth, the way he kept a soothing hand on Hux’s hip, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. Hux could hardly focus on anything at all, because this was new and different and _fucking terrifying._

“Hey.”

Hux blinked a few times before he opened his eyes and looked up at Poe. He was breathing heavily, his tanned skin flushed pink from his exertions. And he was watching Hux with slight concern. “You alright?” he asked.

Hux nodded. He swallowed past a lump in his throat and gripped Poe’s hips roughly, in what he hoped was a show of strength and toughness. He wasn’t _fragile._

He just wasn’t used to something like sex feeling quite so nice.

Poe kissed Hux gently, his mouth lingering against Hux’s as he began to roll his hips. Hux moaned in response, so Dameron would stop worrying and just _fuck him._

But after a few moments, it was clear to Hux that what he’d thought was going to be a quick fuck was going to be something completely different. Poe kissed him, adjusted his pace based on how Hux was touching him and reacting. When Hux tensed and stopped kissing, Poe slowed down, not fucking into him quite so roughly. When Hux tipped his head back on the pillows and moaned, Poe kept rolling his hips at that same angle.

And when their eyes locked, both of them froze. 

Their skin was damp with sweat and their eyes dark with lust, but in that moment they realized just where they’d ended up, from where they’d started. Hux was nearly bent in half, Poe filling him completely, Hux’s hands tangled in Poe’s hair, occasionally scratching along his shoulders. They blinked a few times, neither sure of what to say or do.

Poe kissed Hux, words lost on him, and after a brief moment Hux whispered into Poe’s mouth, “Keep going. _Please._ ”

Steadying himself on one hand, Poe reached out with the other, fumbling in the dark until he caught Hux’s hand. He threaded their fingers together, hands resting on the mattress next to Hux’s head, moans mixing together as the mood in the room completely shifted. 

This was different, for both of them. It was exciting, terrifying, _wonderful_. Poe rolled his hips steadily, slowly, a rhythm so torturously satisfying that Hux’s toes curled and he completely lost himself in the moment. He clutched Poe’s hand with a tight grip and tipped his head back, breathing out oh so softly, “Hngh . . . _Poe_ . . .”

“Yeah.” Poe nodded, pressing his mouth to Hux’s throat, reveling in the way his pulse raced against his lips. “Yeah, Hux. I know.”

  
\+ +

Ben sat at the kitchen counter, repeatedly bouncing a quarter into his empty shot glass. It was a stupid party trick that he’d learned from his father, one that had gotten him fucked up at parties on more than one occasion. It was also cathartic, relaxing.

Ben’s head was swimming with thoughts of tomorrow, with questions about what Phasma and Rose were talking to Rey about, and where the fuck Dameron and Hux had gotten to. Once again—for the second time in as many weeks—Ben found himself alone with Finn. 

Rey’s best friend.

The man who Ben was fairly confident wanted to fuck Rey, and was now finally going to get his chance in a few short days. Finn stood awkwardly by the table, spotted with little droplets of beer where the beer pong game had become a total mess. He watched Ben flick the quarter over and over again until finally, he snapped. “Can you stop that!?”

Ben glanced up at Finn. Pointedly, without even looking at the quarter, Ben did it again. The quarter fell into the shot glass with a loud _CLINK!_

Finn sighed and walked over to the counter. “Look—it’s impressive or whatever, but the sound is really irritating,” he explained.

He awkwardly sat down in the seat next to Ben’s, half expecting him to walk away, mumbling about how he needed his personal space. Ben didn’t move, though. Instead, he just reached across the counter and took hold of the nearest bottle of liquor he could find. He poured himself a shot of rum and then looked at Finn.

Finn scrambled for one of the other empty shot glasses on the counter—whether it had already been used or not, he didn’t know, and didn’t really want to think about it—and then extended it out towards Ben.

Ben filled the glass to the brim, just as his own was. Lifting the shot, Ben wordlessly toasted the drinks. Finn followed. They both threw back the rum like pros—and perhaps they were, given how much alcohol had been consumed between the seven of them that evening so far. Ben sighed, slamming his shot glass down. Finn watched him curiously.

“Don’t be weird about tomorrow, okay?” Ben said finally. He looked at Finn. “For Rey.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Why would I be weird about it?”

Ben’s expression grew exasperated and he sighed, looking away. He picked up the quarter again. 

“Alright, don’t do that, I’ll bite,” Finn said quickly. Ben didn’t put the quarter down. “If you mean you think I’m going to be upset because you’re hooking up with Rey, I’m not.”

“Why not?” Ben scoffed. “You’ve wanted her since I met you guys.”

Finn sighed. He was going to need another drink to deal with Ben’s drunken petulance. He thought they’d already been through this when they scoped out the cabin weeks ago. Standing at the edge of the counter, Finn grabbed two red cups and started mixing things together. He moved deftly, with a confidence and expertise that Ben hadn’t expected. When Finn slid a cup to Ben, the surprise was written clear on Ben’s face. All Finn gave in the way of explanation was, “I’ve been learning some tricks from Maz.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but took a drink nonetheless. It was good. A little too sweet, but he would drink anything at this point in the night.

“Look,” Finn began. “Rey and I have a . . . complicated relationship. We met when we were in middle school. When you meet someone at that age, it’s different. Especially for us.”

“People around here marry their middle school sweethearts,” Ben retorted.

Finn sighed. “Rey and I met in our foster home.”

Ben looked up at Finn. He knew a fair amount about Rey’s past, including that she and Finn had met at the group home. But aside from that, he knew nothing about Finn’s past. He was quiet, intrigued. Something about this conversation felt important in a way which kept Ben from becoming too argumentative. 

“Well, you know about Rey—she grew up in England, then moved to the States to be with her grandparents when her parents passed. But she lost them, too, a few years later,” Finn explained. “After that, she got put in foster care. I was already there.” He brought his cup to his lips for a sip.

Before he could stop himself, Ben blurted out, “Why?”

Finn glanced up over the rim of his cup, caught off guard by the question. “Why what?”

“Why were you already there?”

The alcohol made him want to ask, to get to know Finn a little more. That’s what he told himself, at least.

“I’ve been an orphan my whole life,” Finn replied simply. “As long as I can remember, at least. One time, a social worker told me my mom was really young when I was born—like fifteen or something—and she tried, but she just couldn’t take care of me. She left me at the church on the corner . . . the big Catholic one with the bells?” Ben nodded; he knew the one. “I’ve been in foster care ever since.”

Finn took a drink before he continued. “Rey and I met when we were both put in the same group home. By then, we were old enough that finding placements for us would have been a nightmare. But Plutt’s Group Home had some openings for our age bracket, and we got sent there.”

Plutt’s Group Home: Ben knew the name from what little Rey had revealed about her time there. But he also remembered his mom talking about the place over dinner sometimes, when he was putting away the dishes in the kitchen. His mother, Leia, was in local government, and he recalled one of her policies—something about more rights for the kids there, or better living conditions. Maybe both. He was fairly certain that his mother had been the one responsible for shutting the place down. It had closed about six years ago, now. Rey had insisted they not talk about it when they’d seen it on the news.

“It was miserable,” Finn said. “He was awful to us—we were always working on something for him. He’d sell it, not give us the profits. We had the same awful food every night. But it was a home. It was more than pretty much every other family around here would give us.” He looked up at Ben. “The reason we’re so close is because we suffered through that together. We were what made that place bearable for each other.”

Both men were silent. Finn took a long gulp from his drink.

“Rey is beautiful. And she grew up to be this incredible person even with her terrible circumstances as a kid,” Finn confessed. “And my scene with her is going to be no big deal. She and I have always cared about each other, but she cares about you, too.”

“Rey cares about everyone she meets.” Ben bitterly slammed the quarter on the counter; it missed the shot glass for the first time all night.

“You’re different.”

Ben’s dark eyes dart up to meet Finn’s. Finn continued. “She’s been through hell and back, but she’s clearly really grown to care for you over the years. And I’m not going to get in the way of Rey’s happiness. Ever. She’s the most important person in my life.”

There was a lot to process there, and the alcohol riddling Ben’s brain did nothing to help. Rey could have anyone she wanted. Finn. Dameron. Hell, even _Hux_. But Finn thought she wanted _him_?

“So I think now’s the part where I’m supposed to tell you to take care of her,” Finn said. “But I already know you will.” He threw back the rest of his drink in one quick gulp. “You like her, too.”

“You know nothing,” Ben brooded.

Finn laughed. “She’s the princess in your story. You wrote it yourself.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it reads the way you meant it to.” Finn shook his head. “Make sure you treat her like a princess tomorrow, okay? She’s been through a lot. Make this fun for her.”

Ben looked up at Finn, whose expression had grown very serious. He meant business. Rey was the most important woman in his life—and Ben’s too—so they could get on the same page about this. Instead of speaking, Ben just nodded. He’d be good to Rey; she’d become his best friend. He’d do _anything_ for her. Hell, he’d agreed to do this stupid porno, hadn’t he?

“Thanks,” Finn said to Ben earnestly.

Ben chugged the rest of his drink in response. Once he’d swallowed it back, he glanced up at Finn, who was starting to walk towards the couch so he could sleep.

“One last thing.”

Finn turned around, surprised that Ben was still speaking to him. “Yeah?” he asked.

“I, uh . . . this film stuff is new to me,” Ben began. “So I’m not going to be able to act _and_ direct tomorrow.” Finn stared at Ben blankly. “I’m going to need you to step in as director. Phasma likes doing close-ups with the camera, and I don’t trust Dameron to do it. Hux won’t, so . . . that leaves you.”

“I’m flattered,” said Finn bluntly.

“Look—you can read Rey,” Ben explained. “You’ll be able to tell if she needs us to stop. If I’m not . . . whatever. Forget it. Just stand behind the camera and bark orders tomorrow. Can you do that?”

Finn’s expression softened. “Rey knows herself and she’ll speak up if something’s wrong,” he insisted. “You don’t need me to watch for that.”

“Will you do it or not?”

Ben was tense, and he was clearly stressed about the scene the next day. Finn found it odd, seeing Ben so off-balance, so out of his element. He was usually much less open with him, and a lot more confident. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the faint traces of friendship. Finn wasn’t sure which he preferred.

“Yeah,” Finn nodded. “I’ll direct for you tomorrow. No problem.”

Ben nodded his thanks. He stood up from the counter to walk to his room but hesitated when he got to the hallway entrance. “There might be another blanket or two in this closet,” he said, hitting the door of the hallway linen closet. “If you want one a cleaner one.”

The trash fire had made a hell of a mess in their living room, for the single night they’d let it burn. And after finding common ground with Finn. . . he couldn’t refrain from offering the slightest bit of kindness to Finn. In the morning, if Finn brought it up, Ben would feign a blackout and say he didn’t remember.

Finn smiled, a bit lopsided and bemused, and nodded. “Thanks.”

Ben disappeared down the hallway without another word.

  
\+ +

Hux stood casually out on his balcony, the private space overlooking the wooded backyard of his father’s luxurious home. He wore sweatpants and a robe, and it was the most relaxed he’d allowed himself to be around another person in quite a while. A cigarette hung lazily between his second and third fingers, smoke drifting out into the cool December air as he leaned forward against the railing.

When the door to the balcony opened up, Hux straightened and turned in surprise. He hadn’t expected Dameron to stick around after, never mind follow him out into the cold. He wore his jeans from earlier, and the hoodie he’d loaned to Hux.

Hux raised an eyebrow in question, to which Poe wordlessly answered by holding out his hand and nodding to the cigarette Hux was taking his time with. Hux brought it to his lips and took a long, deep inhale, locking his eyes with Poe’s. He let the smoke soothe him, the nicotine reminding him that _this was okay, Dameron could stay._

Then, he offered the cigarette—a truce of sorts. A gesture of trust.

Poe smiled, taking the cigarette and bringing it to his mouth right away. He savored the heat between his fingers, the way the smoke warmed him from the inside out. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Hux commented, his breath coming out in puffs. Whether it was from the cigarette or the cold, Poe couldn’t tell.

As he exhaled, Poe laughed. “Didn’t know you did, either.”

“ _Please_.” Hux rolled his eyes. “It’s practically a cliché for me.”

“Like it’s not for me?” Poe challenged.

Their eyes met and Poe extended his hand, offering the cigarette back to Hux. When he took it, their fingers brushed, and Poe smiled. Hux’s expression didn’t change. “You good if I crash here tonight?” Poe asked, stepping closer to Hux on the balcony.

“You could catch an Uber home,” Hux reminded him.

Poe stood so close to Hux he could feel the warmth radiating from the taller man’s body. He could still smell the traces of his expensive cologne, mixed with sex and Natty Light in a way that seemed almost funny. Hux wasn’t _that guy._

And yet, tonight he had been.

“You don’t want me to do that.”

He knew he was taking a risk, pushing his limits with Hux, but Poe wanted to see how far he could go with this man, how much he’d open up. Hux had always been the enigma on the other side of their friend group, the half that Poe only saw when he was inebriated and they were all tipsy enough to be kind to one another. Poe liked people like that. He liked pushing their buttons, figuring out what made them tick. Getting into their pants was just a bonus.

Hux was quiet as he took another drag from the cigarette. Poe took a chance and lifted his hand to rest it at the center of Hux’s back. He was tall, strong—everything Poe looked for in a partner. But that wasn’t what this was—right? 

“Anyone ever stayed the night with you before, Hux?” Poe whispered.

He leaned in and rested his head on Hux’s shoulder, and then held out his hand for the cigarette. Hux’s whole body was warm beneath his touch, and the man wasn’t stepping away. Something was keeping him there, making him trust Poe, even just a little.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does,” Poe said casually, making a grabby-hand gesture at the cigarette.

Hux handed it over and sighed, exasperated. “You’re drunk.”

“Neither of us are drunk right now. You confirmed that for me earlier.”

Hux looked over as Poe took a long drag from the cigarette. He half expected Poe to be smirking or something equally as infuriating, but he wasn’t. Poe just stood there, looking up at Hux through his obscenely long eyelashes, waiting calmly.

Poe handed the cigarette back and stayed close to Hux. The proximity was nice, if only for the warmth. But somewhere between the flirting in the foyer and the cigarette on the balcony, the two of them had stumbled upon something else. Something neither was prepared to think about.

“You can stay.”

In response, Poe rested his head on Hux’s shoulder. “I’ll make you coffee in the morning. My treat,” Poe replied.

Hux scoffed.

“What? All of a sudden you don’t like coffee?”

Hux turned his head to look down at Poe, whose gaze was still fixed upon the view from the balcony. “I like coffee just fine,” Hux replied curtly. He turned back to look at the snow-covered trees in the moonlight as he said, “It’s just that we’ll probably need something stronger if we’re going to survive filming tomorrow.”

“What makes you say that?” Poe wondered.

Hux shivered, so Poe stepped a little closer to try to share his warmth. Rather reluctantly, Hux lifted his arm so Poe could burrow beneath it, sidling up to him and slinging both arms around his waist. Hux rested his arm around Poe’s shoulders, and he tried to push away all the snarky things he wanted to say. Something about this was . . . good. Nice. Hux didn’t want to ruin it.

“Think about it.”

The wind whipped silently around them for a moment, and then Poe heard the crackling of the cigarette as Hux took one last drag from it. He snuffed it out on the ashtray at the end of the railing and exhaled, letting Poe think it through.

“Oh! You mean because it’s Ben and Rey,” Poe said after a minute. “Yeah, I guess that’ll be weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” replied Hux. “Those two are fucked.”

Poe laughed, bright and cheery, out of place for the solemnity of the Supremacy. They gazed to the trees at the perimeter of the property, at the bitter dawn as the sky started to brighten with the looming threat of the following day. Neither felt ready for it, neither wanted this moment to end.

“Yeah,” Poe agreed, tucking himself closer against Hux’s side, exhaustion and cold beginning to seep into his bones. “They’re fucked. But hey—there’s a chance it’ll mean they finally get together. We should all be relieved, right?”

Hux considered it. “True,” he conceded. “But if they don’t get it, then it’ll be painful for all of us. More so than it is now.”

Poe looked up at Hux, grinning. “Well then, you keep putting up with me and we’ll give everyone something to talk about instead,” he suggested.

Rolling his eyes, Hux replied, “ _Please._ Nobody would be surprised to see you with a single one of us.”

“What, you been thinkin’ about me, Hux?” Poe asked. “About dating me? Taking me home with you?” He laughed in hopes of lightening the mood. “I’m flattered.”

“You had better stop talking before I change my mind. I’m sure an Uber could be here in five minutes or less,” Hux warned.

“Nah, you wouldn’t make me leave now,” Poe corrected, nuzzling his face into the crook of Hux’s neck. “You like me keeping you warm out here on the deck.”

For a moment, Hux just let him, enjoying the massive amounts of warmth that Poe was sharing with him. But when a cool burst of December air breezed past them, Hux moved his arm to shove Poe at the door, trying his very best to hide the sparkle threatening to shine in his eyes, to give himself away. He was enjoying himself. 

Poe laughed and went back inside the house, glancing over his shoulder at Hux as he kicked off his jeans again. Hux followed, trying desperately to look unamused and unaffected.

“C’mon. Let’s have casual, no strings attached cuddling, and handle it better than Rey or Ben will ever handle their scene tomorrow,” Poe joked. “Because we can admit our feelings.”

Hux untied his robe and let it fall to the floor, choosing to crawl into bed in his sweatpants rather than acknowledge Poe’s statement in full. “Well, you’re right about one thing,” he said, switching off his lamp before Dameron could get to the bed. “They _do_ have feelings for each other.”

“I mean, that much was obvi— _SHIT_!” 

A huge thud signaled that Poe had run into something—the dresser, or perhaps the bedside table. Hux had to stifle a laugh. After a moment, he felt a weight on the bed next to him and decided to help Poe slide underneath the blankets next to him. 

“You couldn’t have waited until I was in bed to turn the light off?”

Hux laid back against the pillow, obliging Poe as he curled up to his side just as he’d done out on the balcony. He willed his head to stop spinning, his brain to stop overthinking, his heart to _stop fucking pounding._

“If you plan to stick around, Dameron, I _will_ make you work for it.”

Drowsily, Poe snuggled up to Hux and yawned, muttering something about Hux being a bastard.

Now that made Hux smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's playlist:
> 
> 9// The Rebel is Coming  
>  Do It With a Rockstar - Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra  
>  Michael - Franz Ferdinand  
>  Never Had - Oscar Isaac   
>  Temporary Fix - One Direction   
>  I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked - Ida Maria  
>  Relax - Frankie Goes to Hollywood


	10. Winter is Coming (Twice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has finally come for Ben and Rey to film their scene and answer that age old question: Will Winter be coming? Meanwhile, Finn and the others try to answer some questions of their own regarding a certain popular book-and-HBO series.
> 
> But as the night wears on, the questions may prove a bit harder to grapple with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Still want more of Ben and Rey?** Check out the interim ficlet, Chapter 9.5, [SoloStarfighter77 is Coming](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/15164336)!
> 
> Thanks as always to our betas Tia and Dot, and to you lovely readers!

Ben hoped the circumstances of his arrival at the Supremacy that night were not an indication of how the rest of the night would go. He was late to film his own scene. Work had kept him, so he’d rushed home to shower and change (he would spare Rey his usual Eau de First Order Coffee if he could) and then rushed even more quickly out to the house, where everyone was waiting. Rey was nowhere to be seen, but since she had spent the day with Rose, who _was_ there and looking at him disapprovingly as he swept into the room, he knew she must be off in one of the other rooms.

“Rey is almost ready,” Rose told him, lips pursed. “Phasma’s just finishing her makeup in the bathroom. We were beginning to think you’d forgotten.”

Ben wondered how he could possibly have forgotten this, but he brushed her comment off. “No. It was work shit. Whatever, I’m here. Let Rey know I’ll be ready soon if she gets back before me.”

Without another word or a sign of acknowledgment toward any of the others, he left the room in much the same harried, irritable fashion he’d arrived, off to find one of the other bathrooms or empty bedrooms or . . . jeez, this house had too many fucking rooms. At least getting in costume, for him, didn’t involve makeup or hair, so he was done and back quickly enough after checking once or twice more that he hadn’t nicked himself while shaving in a hurry earlier.

“Ah, Ben,” Phasma said when he returned, sparing him a look over her shoulder as she stood straightening something out on the back of Rey’s dress. “So good to have you back. Car trouble?”

“No, work. Can we all stop? I know I was late. I’m here, nothing was delayed.”

He was trying to get a look at Rey across the room when Finn sidled up next to him. “Hey. Just checking, we’re still good about me directing the scene?”

“Yeah.” Ben nodded stiffly. “Yeah, we’re still good. Listen, I’m trusting you to—”

“I _know_ , dude. I’ve got it under control. And as director, I am declaring you can officially stop thinking about it. Starting right now.” Finn took a step back and gave Ben an appraising look. “Costume looks good. Creepier with the mask, probably.”

“That’s the idea.”

A few minutes later, they were finally getting ready to begin. The room they’d chosen for the scene was a guest suite, though it was at least twice as large as Ben’s own bedroom back at the apartment and looked like it had been furnished for royalty. The floors were shining hardwood, with a plush rug under the bed—a huge, four-poster monstrosity with luxurious coverings and what was probably an obscenely soft mattress. The furniture and decor were all similarly splendid, and the floor-to-ceiling windows along the far wall stood with their heavy drapes open, looking out onto the dark, empty treeline beyond and a night sky obscured by thick, snow-laden clouds. One final touch—the one that had made just about everyone agree this was the right room for the scene—was the large, stonework fireplace, which currently housed an impressive blaze that warmed the room and supplemented the soft glow of the lamps.

Near the bureau, Finn and Poe were making sure they had the tripod set up in the right spot, and Phasma was cradling her own camera like a prized possession as Rose waited with her microphone, looking bored and scrolling through something on her phone. Hux had disappeared; Ben suspected he was in the kitchen, pouring himself a third drink.

Which left him and Rey sitting at the end of the bed, eager to start. Perhaps a little on edge, if Ben was being honest with himself. “How was your girls’ day with Rose?”

“It was good. Relaxing. Slapped on some sheet masks, ordered pizza, played Mario Kart for a few hours.” The latter two things sounded great, though Ben had no idea what a sheet mask was and was afraid to ask. 

“Did you win?”

“Eh. We were about even for wins.” Rey looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wrangling a suppressed smile. “You _shaved_.” She prodded at his chin with a finger, as if she expected it to prove an illusion. “Is that why you were late? It’s not that big of a deal; your face is covered half the time.”

He barely stopped himself from arguing that shaving was not why he was late. But it kind of was, and she was just joking. Ben was glad of the distraction, even if it meant she was teasing him about something, so he dealt it back to her. “Well, the other half of the time, it’s not covered, and it’s going to be mashing up against your face. Are you _into_ beard burn?”

“‘Mashing’? God, I hope you’re a better kisser than that.” Rey chuckled and shook her head, clasping her hands in her lap. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It looks good. You look really good.”

“Thanks. So do you.” 

“You've seen me like this already.”

True. Sort of. He’d seen her in costume on the other days they'd filmed shots of Rey wandering the fortress halls and stumbling upon the trysts that marked Princess Winter’s journey. So it wasn’t like he was taken off guard by it. He shouldn’t have been. But he _was._

This felt different. Then, he’d been looking at her as the director, checking to make sure everything was correct, paying more attention to the scenes playing out and her hitting her marks. He wasn’t doing any of that today. Between her makeup and her hair and the way the dress fit her, Rey was stunning. For some reason, that only reminded him that she always looked good to him anyway.

“Okay, fine,” he admitted. “It bears repeating though.”

Her mouth twitched, and her cheeks had gone slightly pink. “It’s fun to get all dressed up like this. I can sort of see why you like all the LARP stuff. Being someone else for a little while is . . . exciting?”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t usually involve sex.”

“I’m sure. Only sometimes.” She looked at his face again and poked him in the cheek. “And, actually, lucky you—I shaved, too.”

“What?”

Rey gave him a withering look. “Oh, please. It’s the dead of winter. I hadn’t shaved my legs since the reunion, and I only did it then because I thought I’d be wearing a dress.”

“And you were hoping to get laid?” Ben almost laughed, then tamped it down. The crew looked just about ready, and he was trying not to let himself get too off track. He’d need to be in character soon. 

“Yes. _Anyway._ If I knew I’d have been wearing jeans I wouldn’t have bothered. And—” She lifted her arms and did a strange little shimmy next to him to make sure he noticed the state of her underarms. “—check out these babies. So smooth.”

He couldn’t stop the laughter that came at that one, even if it was only a short burst. “Well, now you're wearing a dress _and_ getting laid, so thanks, I guess.”

“Oh, if it weren't for this being filmed, I doubt I'd have bothered. Gotta look good on camera, and all. You'd have to put up with my ordinary wintertime shaving habits if we were just having sex for the hell of it.”

“But we wouldn't be,” Ben reminded her, unsure how else to respond to the suggestion that they might be doing this under any other circumstances.

“Of course not.” She grinned at him and shrugged. “Anyway. Thanks for getting rid of your weird beard.”

“Weird? Hey, it’s not—”

“Okay, guys? You ready?” Finn was waving and calling over from where he stood near the camera. “I think we’re good over here.”

“Yeah, think so.” Time to get this done. Ben sighed and gestured toward the door. Rey would be starting the scene in the hallway. “Break a leg, Princess.”

Rey snorted. “Thanks, Cuntslayer. See you.” 

At first, the scene went smoothly, which was a welcome change from how the night had begun. Princess Winter thought she had made it home at last after her strange, titillating journey of sexual awakening; but when she entered her chambers, she was greeted by the sight of the wicked Cuntslayer holding a length of chain, waiting to shackle her and take her back with him to the fortress. When they’d written the script, neither Ben nor Rey had really liked the implications of the Cuntslayer _actually_ chaining the princess, so instead he exhorted her to come with him willingly—the princess would be his guest, not his prisoner, he assured her. She still had much to learn, and her ultimate test was yet to come. But if she refused . . . 

“You know,” Ben said, looming over Rey where she stood near the edge of the bed. His masked face was drawn near to hers, and he was crowding her space like a hulking shadow. “I can take whatever I want, Princess.”

Rey had one hand clenched around a bedpost, the other balled into a fist, and she glared mutinously back at him, refusing to give way to his intimidations. “You wouldn’t dare. And _you_ have nothing _I_ want.”

“Don’t I? What about what you need?” He rested a gloved hand on her cheek and traced her lips with his thumb—as the script called for. “You need a teacher.”

 _What could a creature in a mask possibly have to teach me?_ That was her next line. But Rey’s eyes sparked, and she looked up at him coolly. 

“No.” She sounded almost bored.

Ben blinked and backed away. That was . . . not quite right. For a second he wasn't sure what to say, but he didn't want to break the momentum of the scene by correcting her. They’d been off to a good start. It was a minor detail. No one would be watching this for the dialogue. He tried to keep his reply simple, so she could recover and get it right this time. 

“No?”

“No, I don't need a teacher. I know what I need.” 

Still wrong. 

Rey took a breath, then her expression hardened. She looked Ben in the eyes, or where she must have imagined his eyes were. He was compelled to hold her gaze. Something about how low her voice was, gentle but firm, sent a chill through him as he felt a familiar heat build in his pelvis and up his spine. “Come here.”

He obeyed, puzzled but curious, half expecting her to crack up laughing. Instead she stood there, defiant. Perfectly poised. Entirely in character. 

“Take that off.” She pointed to his mask, gesturing with her chin. “You’re not . . . just some creature in a mask. I want to see the face of the man beneath it.”

Ben hesitated this time. It was too soon for this part—according to the script, which they were deviating from more each moment. 

Fine, then. He reached up to unlatch the mask and pull it off his head, and briefly found himself with the problem of figuring out where to put it. Rey took care of that; she removed it from his hands and tossed it onto the bed. It bounced a couple times before coming to rest in the middle of the mattress. 

The thought that it might get in the way later began to cross his mind, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Rey was looking keenly at his face. It was shockingly distracting. Something about being blinkered by the mask had made it easy to forget—or at least ignore—how pretty she looked. He held her gaze and let her reach for his hands and bring them to her mouth one at a time. She pulled his gloves off with her teeth, occasionally nipping at the tips of his fingers, then released him and sent the gloves the way of the mask.

Something flashed across her face. Vexation? Probably about the fact that so far she was pulling the weight of scene. Though, he hadn’t told her to start making things up, so why was she surprised? 

Probably because he ought to have been up to the task of matching her. He _was_. But again, she beat him to it: she gently pressed a hand to the side of his face. His skin began to warm far too quickly to under her touch as she let her palm rest there, fingers drifting over his cheekbone, over his lips. He definitely should’ve been doing something about this. Instead, all he could do was stare at her mouth like he’d never seen it before.

Her gaze flickered, like she was weighing something as she stopped touching him and took a step back. When she spoke her words and face were decisive. “Undress me.”

Part of him wished the mask was still on. It was so difficult not to look at the crew. Even a fleeting glance would have been plain to everyone. He could imagine the others exchanging bemused looks right now. But no one said anything. For the third time since Rey started changing things, he considered calling cut, since Finn hadn’t. Clearly, she had forgotten her lines.

But no, this was something else. She was looking at him so expectantly, and everything out of her mouth was said with utter certainty. She wasn't doing this to fuck with him. She wouldn't. And he could improvise just as well as she could. He was a LARPer, goddammit.

He looked her in the eye again but assented silently, circling around behind her and moving nearer. She just stood there, head dipped forward slightly, her breath quickening, as he unzipped the dress and pulled the straps at her shoulders down. He felt her shiver when his hands brushed over her back and collarbone. Mask or not, he was relieved to have her eyes off his face for a few seconds. Ben knew for a fact that he could rarely keep his emotions from showing. And he was having a lot of them right now. 

Her skin puckered with goosebumps again as he pushed the dress further down her arms. On impulse, he bent forward to trail a few soft kisses down her shoulders as he bared them, taking his time. That was a good decision. Her skin was warm and smooth and scented with something he realized he knew because it was so definitively Rey. The scent he noticed, without noticing, every morning at breakfast, or when they drove together, or when she curled next to him on the couch. He let his mouth wander just to where her neck sloped into her shoulder, then lingered there, lightly pulling her skin between his lips until he felt her step away.

She didn’t go far, stopping in front of the fireplace. The dress slipped down over her almost too readily. Whatever material it was made of—as if he knew—was so smooth it practically did the work itself. As it pooled around Rey’s feet, he was immediately fixated by the view he was being afforded her very shapely ass. She was still wearing her heels, and the way she stepped out of the fallen dress in them made the sight of her like this even more maddening. But then she turned around, and his breath caught. 

She was wearing a matched set of lingerie that was not the sort of thing Ben thought she even owned. White, all lace and tiny straps, a little transparent. Almost sweet. He knew he was staring; he knew she wanted him to. His first thought, ridiculously, was that it made her skin seem to glow brighter in the fire light. But it also accentuated the way her breasts curved, hinted at the outline of her nipples, and drew his focus over the slim plane of her hips. He swallowed hard. His eyes fixed on where her thighs brushed together as she kicked her shoes off and pushed the dress aside with a foot. God, he wanted to drop to his knees right now and plant his face between them.

What the fuck. Okay, going down on her wasn't in the script, _but_ they were thoroughly off-script by now anyway. Which was good, because he officially couldn't remember any of his lines. 

Part of him was reveling in the process of baring her a little at a time. Part of him just wanted her naked and wet and spread out in front of him; on the bed, on the floor, it didn’t really matter. She was barely containing a grin, and he recognized that glint in her eyes. Whatever his face was doing right now, she liked it. 

His pants were getting too restrictive. He was feeling left out and worked up. He couldn’t keep standing here, and he absolutely didn’t want to.

Ben crossed over to her in half the number of strides it had taken her to get there, slid an arm around her waist, and leaned forward to kiss her. Their faces collided harder than he expected—as he was bending, Rey was rising up on her toes with the same thing on her mind. It wasn’t a tentative thing, the kiss; she wrapped her arms around his neck almost immediately, and he dipped her backward a little and opened his mouth to hers. It was like they’d been doing this for years. The only coherent thought his mind would form was a question: Why had they waited so long to actually kiss each other? Tonight? _At all?_ Kissing her was practically poetic, all heated moments tempered by lighter touches that had him seeking her every time she tried a new angle.

They were moving slowly toward the bed again with the stumbling, meandering steps necessitated by having one’s face and hands occupied with matters more interesting than mere locomotion. After a while, Ben automatically reached back to unhook the clasp of her bra—she looked divine in it, but she _had_ told him to undress her, and he was in no position to refuse royalty—and she broke away just enough to slip it off and let it drop unceremoniously to the floor as his hands drifted down her back and came to rest at her hips.

Fuck. He was trying to focus on the scene, really he was, but her _tits._ They were small and pert and perfect. Dusted with little freckles, like her shoulders. There was a small birthmark next to her right nipple just begging him to suck at and drag his teeth over it. She must have noticed he was getting caught up, because she placed her hands over his and guided them to the waistband of her panties, and he drew them down over her hips, over the neat thatch of hair between her legs, over the smooth length of her thighs, over her sharp knees, until she was standing there completely exposed to him. 

He was sweating to death in his layers of costume, but somehow he felt far more exposed right now. She just looked pleased. And beautiful.

And hungry. She smiled slowly. “Good. Now yours.” Ben was beginning to unfasten his tunic, but she stopped him. “No, no, _Cuntslayer._ ” God that sounded so fucking stupid, all of it did, but coming from her, right now, it didn't even matter, not with her voice and that knowing smirk and . . . all of her. Right there. She stretched up to kiss him again, long and deliberate, then murmured, her lips still just touching his, “Let your princess practice what she’s learned.”

In theory, what Princess Winter had learned so far didn’t really apply to this situation ( _shit, had she just introduced a plot hole?_ ), but he was too into this to care. He let his hands graze over her sides instead and peppered a few kisses down her throat. “Show me.”

She made short work of the cowl and had the tunic open so quickly Ben almost wondered how she avoided tearing any of it. Then he remembered she'd been trying it on in secret for two years . . . and taking it off. Rey leaned into him to pull it back off his shoulders, brushing the soft peaks of her breasts over his bare chest as she did so, rubbing up against him when her face settled briefly at his neck. The weird contrast of the cooler air suddenly hitting him and the raw heat of her skin on his was doing things to him—until she drew back to toss the tunic aside. The break in skin-to-skin contact was torturous. 

Losing the tunic mitigated how warm the costume was, though it only addressed the least of his problems. Meanwhile, his cock was still suffocating. There was no way she had missed the feeling of it straining under the fabric she’d just pressed her naked hips to. 

Rey bit her lip and let her eyes roam over him, then trailed her hands down his chest, nails digging lightly, slowing over his abdomen, like she was mapping him. She brushed his hands aside when she noticed that he already had his belt open and was fumbling with the closure. As she worked his zipper, she brought her face near to his and he caught her mouth in a brief kiss before she glanced down to his pants again with a faint frown. He suspected he knew the cause: Why was the waist on these things so fucking high? 

The delay gave him time to turn his attention elsewhere, at least. He’d never touched Rey like this before, and he wouldn't again after. If this was a way of making it last, good. While she dealt with the unexpectedly annoying matter of his costume, he leaned to kiss the tips of her ears, then lower to mouth the side of her neck, the tops of her shoulders, as his hands went to her breasts. At first he only caressed them lightly, starting at the soft swell of their underside, then moved in slow circles toward the center of each with his thumbs. When her skin became hot under his, he cupped the fullness of them in his palms, kneading and stroking until he felt the goosebumps raise there and her nipples begin to stiffen more at his touch so he could roll and tease them between his fingers. 

When Rey’s hands finally left his waistband, his mouth found hers again. He let a hand slide down her back to her ass, cupped under a buttock, and squeezed, rocking into her and moving her back a little toward the bed. They'd only gone a few steps when she slipped a hand inside his pants and closed it around him until he gave a soft, muffled groan against her forehead. Rey sighed into his chest, and he felt her teeth on one of his pecs, clamping down gently. He wasn't sure if it was a response to his hands wandering over her, or to the sound he’d just made for her, or simply the feeling of him getting harder in her hand. But he was all too pleased when she did it again, more insistently, as she drew her hand along the length of his cock, let her thumb whisper over the tip, and withdrew.

She turned him with her suddenly, so that his back was to the bed instead of hers, and pushed him back to sit on the edge of it. He had enough time to pull his boots and socks off before she was back on him, tugging his pants and boxer-briefs deftly down his legs. Ben felt like he could finally breathe, and like he could finally see her now. All of her, at once. Scratch that: breathing was questionable. 

He grasped her hips, dragged her forward until she was between his legs, his cock massively hard and nudging up against one of her thighs, and began pressing open-mouthed kisses to her breasts, lavishing them properly as he had wanted to since she let her dress drop. She gasped a little and snatched at his hair, arching her back reflexively to offer him more of herself. The angle wasn’t ideal—her tits were fantastic, and it was easy enough to lean and press his face to her abdomen to draw his tongue along the dip of her navel. But he couldn’t get at the rest of her without bending forward in a way that wasn’t sustainable long enough to get her even close to coming. He could use his fingers, sure. The mask was long gone, though, and he planned on taking advantage of it. At this specific moment, that meant he wasn’t going to settle for anything less than devouring her cunt with his entire mouth.

Ben pulled away to shift further onto the bed, and Rey climbed up to pursue him, bowling him back as he swatted the mask and gloves away and onto the floor. She slung a leg over him and leaned forward over his chest to plant her hands on either side of his head. She froze for a moment with him pinned beneath her, not touching him but staring into his face, mouth parted, like the situation was only just hitting her as he stared back. His hands were sliding up her thighs in what felt like slow motion. 

The trance broke as quickly as it began. She lowered her chest over his as he propped himself up on an elbow to meet her with more fervid kisses, his free hand pressing at her back to draw her nearer. Her skin was so hot, already pearlescent with sweat, her face flushed beautifully, and those little sounds she was making each time he touched her someplace he hadn’t yet . . .

“I want you on my face, Princess,” he mumbled against her mouth, before he even had time to process the fact he was thinking it. 

Bless her, Rey rolled with it. She dipped forward to drag her tongue along the side of his neck and take his earlobe in her teeth, sending a riot of goosebumps down his body. “Are you going to prove to me that you live up to your title?” 

She practically purred the words. Ben had never heard her voice do that. He wanted to hear it again. He grabbed her ass and urged her up and forward onto his chest, where she settled slick and hot over his skin. They’d barely done anything yet, how was she so wet? He pressed his lips to her thigh, bit experimentally at her skin. “Gonna fucking make you my queen.”

Was that in the script? No, it wasn't. That was a 100% “Ben Solo losing his grip on English in the heat of the moment and saying something horrifically absurd” original—now recorded for posterity. He considered it a small personal victory that he managed not to call Rey by her real name. 

Except, she seemed to like it. In any other situation, she would have laughed at him. Absolutely. He probably would have, too. Instead, her eyes lit up and she looked down at him like he just told her she'd won the lottery. Without a word, she kissed him hard on the mouth, then crawled forward and kneeled over him, legs spread, her hands braced on the headboard. Suddenly Ben was staring slack jawed up into her pink, waiting pussy. He didn’t hesitate. He took hold of her hips and guided her into a slightly better position, then kissed and nibbled his way up the sensitive skin at the top of her inner thighs. 

Patience didn't hold very long, for either of them. Rey made a low, impatient sound in the back of her throat, just as he was really getting started on her, and rolled her hips to bear down over his face like he might have forgotten what he was doing down there. He hadn’t—he knew _exactly_ what he wanted to do—but the smell and taste of her overwhelmed his sense of etiquette. He nudged into her with his nose and mouth, parting her lips and testing at her clit with the tip of his tongue. Almost immediately, she issued a plaintive sigh and rocked a little, her legs tightening over his ears.

He shifted his hands to cradle her more firmly and resumed his original gradual pace, sucking and lapping lightly at her lips, running his tongue along each fold and crease, easing her open with his mouth. He could feel her muscles tense and twitch at each touch as minutes passed and she became wetter around him. Experimentally, Ben pulled her toward him and drew the flat of his tongue slowly forward and stopped just before he reached her clit. He paused a moment to breathe over her and did it again, then again, settling his tongue over her the third time and pressing gently. 

This time she sank against him as her legs relaxed and enveloped his face in her for a few gloriously disorienting seconds before she shifted back, hips realigning for his benefit and hers. He started sucking at her clit, slowly at first and increasing pressure and speed carefully, flicking with his tongue as he felt her respond with more zeal, backing off when she shifted forward. His hands kneaded her ass and hips to urge her more snugly to him until all he knew was the dark and heat and sweet soak of her over him. She said something he couldn’t quite make out, and without thinking he responded with a questioning hum against her. He didn’t have time to consider it further before he heard her give a very encouraging moan. 

Ben pushed further into her, moving back and fucking into her with his tongue. That garnered another response from Rey like the one that preceded it, and he was only dimly aware of the way her legs shook a little as she ground herself into him with greater urgency to push him deeper. He curled his tongue and drew out after a few moments, then shifted the friction to the edges. Slowly, he traced his flattened tongue back up to her clit, where he stayed to suck and circle again the way she had seemed to like before. Rey was quivering and drenched, so hot on his skin, the intermittent sound of her gasps and sighs grounding him to her. The way her hips rolled in synchronicity with his movements had Ben losing himself until she tensed one final time and rocked hard into him as she came with a sharp cry. 

In no hurry to stop and knowing she’d likely want it, he rode it out with her—sucking gently at her lips, tracing her slick thighs with light kisses and touches of his tongue, his hands drawing soft, soothing strokes over her legs and buttocks. She lingered above him for a time as his ministrations slowed. One of her hands settled in his hair, where her fingers flexed and wound themselves in, nails scraping his scalp. Then she rolled away and curled next to him on the bed with a leg thrown over his and her face pressed into the crook of his neck. She was sheened with sweat and breathing hard. So was he, as he palmed and licked traces of her from his face.

The room seemed brighter than he remembered as they lay there together, but the sudden absence of Rey’s hot breath on his neck focused his attention and made him look over at her. She was watching him, disheveled and bright-eyed and high-colored. She was exquisite. On a whim, Ben reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

At the edge of his vision, he noticed Phasma moving away from some spot near the corner of the bed, where she'd been filming with remarkable professionalism. It was understandable that he hadn't noticed her. But it wasn't just that. For a few minutes, he had entirely forgotten they were making a movie at all. He hadn’t been thinking about mechanics or blocking or scripts, or about why they needed to do this. The only thing in his mind had been Rey: making her feel good, touching her, tasting her, feeling her weight on him, moving with her, _being with_ her. 

But right. He was still hard and aching to get off. Aching for more of her, specifically. And they were still filming . . .

  
+++

As things were getting increasingly off course with Ben and Rey, Finn was doing his best to keep the crew from doing the same. Get things under control. Run a tight ship. But that was easier said than done.

“Well if they’re going to go off script,” Hux muttered, glaring at Finn as if he expected him to get in there and fix things. “They could at least make it interesting and use the chains or something. This is excruciating.”

“Kinky bastard.” Phasma patted Hux on the shoulder to humor him, then returned her attention to the camera she was holding.

Hux wasn’t appeased. “Shut it. This seems like a waste. I can’t be the only one who sees that.”

“A waste of what? Film? It’s all digital now, Fux, welcome to 2018,” Poe said. “This is _great._ ”

Finn was checking the shot, taking his role as assistant director (because wasn’t that essentially what Ben had asked him to do?) with as much seriousness as he thought it was due. Which was less than Ben generally seemed to think, but enough that Finn wasn’t really in the mood to listen to the increasingly pointless banter going on behind him. He’d opted not to stop the scene when Rey decided, for some reason, to improvise. She knew what she was doing, Finn reasoned. That much had become abundantly clear. Still, he wanted to make sure things were progressing . . . normally, relatively speaking. 

He attempted, half-heartedly, to redirect the flow of conversation. “Yeah. Anyway—”

“I mean, I was starting to worry Solo didn’t even know how to have sex.” Poe seemed to have a lot of thoughts on this, still. Finn sighed and looked at Rose, who shrugged. Poe went on, “The way he was standing around there at the beginning, but he goes right for facesitting? This is maybe taking his commitment to keeping his face covered a little far, but—”

“Poe,” Finn cautioned.

“—why wasn’t that just in the script already if he wanted to eat her out so bad? Because clearly, he did, and we had a lack of oral to begin with. And I don’t think she would’ve had a problem with it, judging by the way she’s grinding away up there.”

“Poe!” Finn hissed more viciously this time, and gave Poe’s arm a backhanded slap. “Can you stop please?”

Rose cleared her throat. “Anyway, speaking of _Game of Thrones_. Anyone heard any news about the next book?”

Finn laughed, satisfied that Poe would hold his tongue for at least a few minutes. “You’re one of the book fans? Ouch. You’re probably better off just waiting for the last season to come out next year. That book is never happening.”

“Never happening, hm? Care to place a wager on that?”

“I still can’t get over the fact that Dany and Jon are aunt and nephew, and the show seems to want me to root for them boning?” Phasma cut in. She looked genuinely troubled, which was a strange thing for her indeed. “I’m very conflicted.”

“So you had no issues with all the sibling fucking for what, twelve seasons?” Hux asked.

“Seven seasons.”

“If we’re talking ships now,” Finn said, allowing himself to be drawn further into the conversation. Ben and Rey weren’t going anywhere any time soon, and the scrutiny he’d been giving them at first was beginning to feel voyeuristic in a way he hadn’t expected. “I have to tell you, I’m more interested in where Tormund and Brienne are heading.”

“Tormund might be _dead_ ,” Rose reminded him.

In a rare occurrence, Hux actually looked puzzled. “What the hell is a ‘ship’?” 

Phasma ignored him and nodded emphatically, siding with Rose. “Exactly. Tormund may be out of the picture altogether. And besides, the story is _clearly_ heading toward Jaime and Brienne endgame. They have so much more . . . intrigue and chemistry. So dramatic. Tormund just wants her as some sort of broodmare.”

“Broodmare?” Finn was incredulous. “He’s in awe of her strength and skill as a fighter!”

“Isn’t Jaime the sister-fucker?” Hux asked, a beat late and still struggling to make heads or tails of the conversation.

“You seem very fixated on that point. There’s more to _Game of Thrones_ than _that_ ,” Rose told him curtly.

“Oh, well that would explain the popularity.”

“You should really give the show more of a chance,” Phasma said. “I think you might be pleasantly surprised.”

“I’ve seen enough to know I’m not interested in wasting my valuable time on—”

“Holy shit, I think she’s about to come!” That was Poe again, his ability to maintain silence having run its course.

“Stop being so annoying. We can all see and hear as well as you can,” said Finn. 

For once, Finn and Hux agreed on something. “Yes, none of this requires a play by play. It’s not a football game.”

Poe’s face scrunched. “Hello, this is why we’re all here, isn’t it? I can’t help if you all’d rather talk about some book that’s never gonna be published.”

“I’ll be back.” Phasma brushed past Finn, camera in hand. “I think Poe’s onto something, and I want to get Rey’s face at least . . .” Whatever else she was saying, it was lost as she moved away to get back to her close ups.

In silence, Hux continued to drink, looking increasingly perturbed and vaguely disgusted. “This is weird.”

“It’s not weird. It’s what we came here to film,” Finn insisted. God, no wonder Ben was so irritable all the time. Directing this was actually incredibly annoying. Maybe this hadn’t been a kind gesture of appreciation and trust after all. “It’s close enough, anyway. They’re . . . enjoying themselves. Well, Rey definitely is, and Solo—” Rey made a noise Finn had never heard her make before, and her posture went briefly rigid. It seemed Poe had been right about one thing, at least. “Whatever. It’s about time they . . . worked all that godawful tension out.”

Rose snorted and slipped a hand into his back pocket. “Seriously.”

Hux glanced at them and sneered.

Finn ignored it. “Right. Let’s keep this rolling.”

  
+++

. . . Rey was watching Ben, utterly disinterested in anything that was going on behind the cameras. He looked a little dazed, and was more flushed than she could remember ever having seen him, and was maybe trying to be discreet about the fact that he was currently licking _her_ off of himself. She still felt the ebb of the orgasm he’d just given her, and seeing him like this as it faded was a huge turn on. She’d done that to him.

When she made the decision to go off script, she surprised herself as well as Ben. There was comfort in knowing what to expect. But as their scene began, Rey could sense he was still tense and caught up in what they were _supposed_ to do. She wanted to get him out of his own head, and she knew the best way to do that was to throw a curve or two at him. 

At first she half expected him to stop the scene. But then he got her out of that dress and—thank you, Rose and Phasma—he’d looked at her in a way she didn’t think was possible for him. His mouth went slack and his eyebrows rose, and she _saw_ it, the corner of his lips turn up in a fleeting, disbelieving smile. It was all so much easier after that. She just hadn’t let herself hope that her improvisations would result in him revealing an apparently great eagerness to go down on her practically before they’d done anything else—or the fact that he was really good at it. 

And . . . they still had to finish this, didn’t they? Rey didn’t think there was any realization that could possibly please her more right now.

Ben was looking at her looking at him. She could tell she was blushing under his notice, which was ridiculous. His hand went to the side of her face, though, and she thought he was about to kiss her. Instead he tucked some of her hair behind her ear, and the gesture struck her as more intimate than anything they had just done. Rey felt a flurry in her chest and gut. His mouth was just curving up into a small, secret smile when she put a hand to his cheek and started kissing him. Not the wet, frantic kisses they’d shared earlier. This was gentler, and he responded in kind. Almost tentatively, which was bizarre given everything that preceded it. 

Eager to resume where they’d left off, Rey pushed herself up over him again but maintained the new, measured pace they were falling into. Her mouth traced a slow path up the center of his chest, along the side of his throat, teeth nipping at his chin. She loved that he’d shaved—his jaw was made to be kissed. Her parted mouth met his, catching each breath and returning it. 

She began to suck at his bottom lip, humming with pleasure, while her hands stroked his chest and neck and he trailed abstract lines over her sides and back with his nails. It tickled a little, but she just wanted him to keep touching her everywhere. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She wanted him to pull her as close as possible. She wanted to have his skin flush with hers. She wanted . . .

God, he had such a beautiful mouth. Having it between her legs had been like some kind of revelation, but she thought, right now, that she would prefer kissing him like this if given the choice. Rey broke away only to nuzzle his jaw. “Your lips are so . . .” She lost her train of thought and wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to say about his lips. A lot of things, really. “ . . . fuck it, I love the way I taste on you.” 

There was no way the mics had picked that up. She hoped not. She said it so quietly. Maybe that wasn’t how this was supposed to work—it wasn’t, this was a bloody porno, everything was for consumption—but she’d wanted it to be private, for him alone, which was almost an impossibility in the circumstances. She felt his mouth curve, though, as he smiled against her cheek, hidden from view. Just as private, just as much only for her. He stretched up to catch her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, sighing into her and taking her face in his hands to hold her close and gently thumb over the planes of her cheeks.

Eventually one of his hands found its way to her hair, pawing at the buns that were now in utter disarray, trying to undo them. She caught his eye and smiled faintly as her hand joined his and completed the task on all three buns with much greater speed than he would have managed alone. A shake of Rey’s head loosened what was left and her hair fell free to curtain their faces. 

Something about it drove Ben closer. He pressed his lips and tongue to her neck, seeking her racing pulse, drawing her skin toward his teeth. She wondered if he would leave a mark; she sort of hoped he did. They kept kissing as he eased her over and onto her back. Or she drew him with her. She had no idea. She just didn’t want to break contact. 

Rey was always aware, intellectually, that Ben was a large man—tall, broad, strong, any of that. But now she couldn’t stop noticing how big his body was as he balanced himself over her, all his weight and heat, the muscles of his chest and shoulders and back tensing, and buried his face in the hollow of her throat. He still smelled faintly of coffee, she could swear, like he couldn’t ever quite get it out of his skin. She clasped a hand to his shoulder and ran the other up into his hair to tangle her fingers in it.

Ben was still sucking at her throat when she felt him skim a hand down over her abdomen and hips, graze his fingers over her thighs, and press his open palm over her cunt. Just the light pressure of him there set every nerve alight in the best way, and she let her legs fall open and angled her hips to deepen the friction of his hand on her. His fingers and thumb stroked softly, like he was handling something precious, letting the warmth of his skin mingle with hers. She pushed up against him and he slid a finger inside her, from back to front, until she sighed roughly into the top of his head.

He added a second finger to spread her open more, sinking the first partway into her for leverage as he began to work her over with his thumb, drawing slow, rhythmic circles over her clit, easing off at just the right moments to keep from taking her too far. She’d already known he was good with his hands outside of situations like this. And she likewise knew that didn’t necessarily translate to skill in bed. But at the same time, she’d let herself speculate in the past, so why was she surprised that he _was_ skilled? The only thing that could have made it better was if he would look at her again. She had loved that earlier, and his eyes on her would really—oh.

It turned out she wasn’t alone in that. He lifted his head from her throat and propped himself on an elbow, turning his face to kiss her palm where it came to rest on his cheek, and then just . . . looked at her. He was watching her face, seeking any small reaction to his touch so that he could adjust his approach. Or maybe he just wanted to see her. Rey wasn’t sure, but she only wanted to fix her eyes on his. And kiss him. She really wanted to do that again. 

So she did, as softly as she could manage in her current state, and he let her lead. She leaned a thigh to his arm to slow him down, and he withdrew to brush his hand over her ribs and let it rest over one of her breasts. He wasn’t even really doing anything there, just massaging lightly, but she shivered anyway and had to take a moment.

“I think we should—” 

She inhaled sharply—he had chosen that moment to move his hand from her breast to draw her nipple into his mouth and scrape it lightly with his teeth. He looked up at her, and she saw the corner of his lips twitch up a little. Until tonight, it had been ages since Rey last had an orgasm that wasn’t of her own doing, and she was pretty sure that if Ben had his way he would soon be giving her her second of the night. Which was great, but she wanted it to be with him inside her this time. 

Kind of needed it to be, too, because, she suddenly remembered, they were being recorded. God, that was inconvenient. ( _No_ , it was the reason they were doing this at all.) She tried again, with less words, right to the point: “Condom.”

Truthfully, Rey had almost forgotten it. And he clearly wasn’t thinking of it either, because he blinked rapidly in realization as his hand tensed on her stomach. It was horribly tempting to let everything just take its course and forget the interruptions. _That_ level of intimacy, with him . . . she would take it. But they couldn’t. They probably ought to have taken care of this already anyway. He gave a shallow nod and she kissed him, biting his lip teasingly as she pushed him off her enough to sit up and crawl over to the edge of the mattress to retrieve one of the condoms they’d left in the bedside table drawer.

Rey didn’t notice he’d followed her until his arm wrapped snugly around her waist from behind, like he couldn’t bear being parted from her for even a handful of seconds. As she groped around in the drawer, he pulled her against him to hold her steady while he planted a winding row of kisses from her neck down over her shoulders and back. Prize in hand, she grinned and squirmed around to face him, putting a firm hand to his chest to push him further back onto the bed before kneeling in front of him.

He reached for the condom she’d grabbed, but she only looked at him questioningly. “Let me?” 

It was a request, not one of the imperatives she’d been spouting earlier. If Ben preferred to do it himself, she wasn’t going to keep it from him. His eyes darted to her hand and his mouth squirmed a little, but he settled back to mirror her posture. 

“As Her Highness wishes.” He winked at her and barely kept the smirk off his face. She almost laughed but reined it in. 

_This fucking nerd._

Rey had never quite mastered the art of making the whole condom process feel sexy. Yes, she’d read the magazine articles, and visited the websites, and watched the videos, and talked about it with Rose, and had plenty of chances to practice. It just always seemed to take her out of the moment, so usually she let the guy handle it. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to offer to do it for Ben. But now here she was, wishing he hadn’t just sort of made a joke, because she didn’t want to start laughing, especially if it might come off as laughing at _him_. There was nothing funny about this, she told herself: her big, well-built, naked roommate with his stupid pretty hair and stupid perfect mouth and stupid broad shoulders, who she was making a porno with for rent money, kneeling in front of her with a rather impressive erection, waiting for her to make good on her request. 

God, was she blushing again? She tilted her head. “She wishes.” 

Drawing closer, Rey brought her mouth to a spot just above his right eyebrow, where he had a thin, curving scar he’d gotten in college (she’d done that: beer bottle, 2008 World Series parade, bad decisions). She kissed it lightly, then moved lower—over his closed eyelid, which twitched under her lips; over his cheek, with all of its lovely freckles and birthmarks; over his jaw (if she had money, she would pay him to keep it this smooth, she swore); over his neck, his collarbone, his chest. She paused halfway down his pectoral and stayed a while, drawing a bit of skin into her mouth to suck and nibble at. He bruised easily; she hoped he didn’t mind. His hands ceased roaming and settled at the small of her back, and his head dipped to rest against hers until she moved away.

She slid her hands the rest of the way down his sides and hips. It was a good thing Ben had been doing such a thorough job getting her ready. This close, with a smear of precum on the side of her thigh where his cock had touched as she was kissing him, she wondered with brief, overwhelming eagerness how it was going to feel to finally have him inside her. Gently, Rey brushed her fingertips over his shaft, closed her hand around it again and stroked. He still had his hands on her, and they trembled a little as he breathed out heavily. She stole a glance at his face and found him watching her.

“See anything you like?” he asked.

Oh, she was going to give him shit for this later. And he’d probably give her shit. They both deserved it. 

“Yes. A few things.” Rey continued caressing his cock a little longer, enjoying the way his dark eyelashes fluttered and his throat bobbed when she paused to run her fingers over his scrotum or got closer to the tip. She wiped away a new drip of precum with her thumb and brought it to her tongue—he knew what she tasted like now, and she would have been lying if she said she wasn’t perversely desirous to know him that way in turn. “No tattoos, after all, though.”

Ben laughed. Nothing dramatic, but his shoulders shook and his abdominal muscles flexed, which was kind of delightful. He truly did have a wonderful, beautiful body. And that laugh was such a warm sound that any nerves she may still have been experiencing all but disappeared.

“You’re so right.” He fought the laugh back down, schooled his face. His fingers were running small circles over the top of her buttocks, and he leaned in to kiss a spot just under her ear. It was such a simple thing, but his breath on her skin and the deep hum of his voice gave her a spectacular chill. “Disappointed?”

Rey’s eyebrows rose and she looked him over. “Not even a little.”

Despite the stupid banter—because of it, if she was being honest—Rey was still profoundly in the moment by the time she unwrapped and rolled the condom onto him. More so, frankly. She’d ridden him already, and she craved more of the feeling of his body over hers, so she pulled him close with her arms around his neck and kissed him with messy abandon as he guided her back onto the mattress beneath him. No more preamble, no more teasing; he lined himself up between her legs and eased her open with his fingers, checked her readiness and his angle again like they’d done this together countless times before, then pushed inside, slowly but smoothly. 

He bent his face over hers, his hair hanging down over his ears. “Holy shit, you’re tight.” He shook his head, face reddening. The fact that both of them were still managing to blush over any of this was surreal to her. “In a good way. I mean.”

Rey dug her fingers into his hips and gasped as he sank deeper. She was glad, because otherwise she would have giggled (bloody _giggled_ ) at his swift self-correction, as if he might have offended her. He wasn’t wrong, and in this brief, still moment she could just enjoy the sensation of being so full of him. 

“I know. And you feel amazing.” She ran her hands up his back, thrilled by every dip and curve of muscle and bone, hooking her arms under his to pull herself up to kiss him. “In a good way, I mean.”

He reached back and grasped beneath one of her thighs, pulling it up for more room. “This okay?”

“Mm hm,” she hummed into his skin. She twisted under him and braced her leg over the back of his thigh, then wrapped her other a little higher around him to hold him more snugly to her when it found purchase on his damp skin. The stretch to her muscles was fantastic. This was more than okay. “Is that?”

“Fuck yes.”

It was easy to find a rhythm with him. Just as he had before, he started slow, reading her reactions and picking up on what she liked quickly. It helped that they were face to face this time—she would just tell him when something felt good, and he would do the same. The idea that the mics might be catching it all had become an nonissue. Outside of herself and Ben, outside the wonderful energy they were building between them, Rey didn’t care about anything else. He seemed just as intent on keeping his eyes locked on her face as she was on taking in his.

They were pressed so close together, the pace of their movements steadily building; he would grind against her _just so_ and for a moment Rey would feel a rush of heat in her groin and the rolling shiver along her limbs and spine that told her she was edging closer . . . but then it would elude her. It happened again, on a particularly forceful thrust of Ben’s hips. This time she couldn’t help the sound that escaped her, high and soft and breathy, almost a whine, exhaled into his shoulder. 

She tightened the leg she had angled over the back of his thighs and dug her fingers into his chest. “Do that again? I’m about . . . but I keep—” She broke off as her voice stuttered. 

“Want me to . . . ?” He was already adjusting his balance, inching a hand away from where it had been resting near her face, partially curled into her hair.

“ _Yes._ Touch me. And do that again. Please.”

His weight shifted to one arm as he kissed her breathless and slid a hand between them, newly familiar with the pressure and angles she seemed to respond to best, though it took a little maneuvering from them both now with him so deep inside her. Still, once his fingers pressed through, that was _it_. He continued to drive against her, his hand gentle by contrast, and soon he did it again, that slower, insistent surge of his hips. 

“ _Ben_ —” It wasn’t gradual this time—Rey came suddenly and completely, arching her body into his, her mouth pressed to his ear, practically noiseless but for the whispered utterance of his name as the intensity of it stole her breath and whatever else she had been about to say. She hadn’t _meant_ to say his name. She wasn’t supposed to, but that required a greater degree of clear-thinking than she currently possessed.

She had to give Ben credit; he’d been patient, and probably burning for this the whole time, because his thrusts quickened as the frisson of her orgasm continued to course through her. The tingling was only just beginning to fade from her limbs when he followed. His forehead pressed to hers, he made a low guttural sound and exhaled hard, and Rey felt him pulsing inside of her as his gasping breaths began to slow. She wanted him to stay right there, just like that, for as long as possible.

Before he could do anything else, she pushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead, stretching her fingers through it, and nestled her face to his. He kissed her temple, then the corner of her mouth just as tenderly. For a few moments Rey just laid there with him to feel her sweat cooling her skin and the way his chest and back expanded with each breath. Their eyes met when he shifted away, and his mouth opened like he was about to say something. But he only looked at her with an expression she couldn’t identify, then reached down to make sure nothing slipped as he pulled out of her.

“Cut!” 

Rey jolted. Oh shit. Right. ‘Cut’ indeed. She looked out beyond the edge of the bed (Was anything beyond the bed? What a concept.) and saw Phasma walking back toward the others, Rose moving out of sight with a mic, and Poe peeking out from behind the mounted camera. Hux and Finn were back there, too, she supposed. That had definitely been Finn calling the scene’s end. And was someone . . clapping?

She sat up and glanced at Ben, who was sitting at the edge of the bed, facing away from her and running a hand through his hair. He looked over his shoulder and nodded to her. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah.” It was an understatement. Though sitting here now was a little strange. They’d left some robes and the bags with their street clothes and other necessities off-camera on one of the chairs in a far corner. But so far neither of them was moving for it. “Just catching my breath. You?”

“I’m . . . good. Jesus.” He was frowning down at his lap, as far as she could tell, and pulling a few tissues from the box on the other bedside table. “We should’ve left a trash can or something over here.”

Rey snorted and turned her attention elsewhere to give him a few moments of privacy, or at least the illusion of it, considering the situation. “Oh. Yeah. Maybe. I think we can just . . . go hit the bathroom? If we all need to discuss anything I’d rather do it clothed.” 

An odd giddiness was beginning to settle over her. They’d finally done this, after weeks of preparation and her half worrying Ben would bail. And it had been perfectly fine. Great, actually. He’d been so . . .

“Discuss? Oh. Right.” Ben seemed preoccupied. He scooted off the bed and stood facing the window for a few moments, his whole body tensing once. It had started snowing outside, though she noticed that only after she noticed his ass. She hadn’t really been afforded the opportunity to appreciate it yet but, yeah, it was pretty nice. Very nice. Dammit. 

She forced herself to stop staring and crawled across the bed to get to her feet, and she accepted the robe Ben handed her when he retrieved them from the chair. They’d make a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up and get dressed, then come back up to tie up loose ends and head home for the night. Despite her racing thoughts, her body was so tired. That had been fun, but a lot, particularly when it had been song long since she’d last done anything like that. As she made her way down the hall, her stomach growled and she stole a look at the grandfather clock at the end of the hall: 2:12 in the morning. It was a lucky thing she would be able to sleep in tomorrow.

  
+++

When he returned to the bedroom, looking more or less respectable, Ben was immediately aware that he had just walked into the middle of a conversation about the scene he and Rey had completed barely twenty minutes ago. The realization was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t surprising. He lingered quietly in the bedroom doorway to let it play out a little longer before he made his presence known. Curiosity—sometimes a dangerous thing. It was late, though, and he was starving, and his head was still swimming from what he and Rey had just done. Good judgment wasn’t something he could claim right now.

Hux was reclined in one of the chairs. Ben couldn’t see his face, but somehow his posture alone conveyed disdain. “—don’t think that was weird _at all_?”

“Weird how?” Finn was reviewing some footage at double speed; Ben couldn’t make it out very well and had mixed feelings on whether he even wanted to right now. Well, he’d have to get over that.

“Too fucking . . . romantic.” Hux waved a dismissive hand. He was holding a drink. Of course he was. “I _told_ you all, they were—”

“Who cares? It _was_ romantic. And it was _pretty_ ,” Rose argued, shaking her head as she tried to wrangle the microphone cords into a passable coil.

“Yes, well. Be that as it may, pretty doesn’t sell, does it?” 

“Tits and sex do, though,” Phasma interrupted. “And we got plenty of that. Didn’t Rey look luminous?”

Yes, she had.

And Hux wasn’t letting the point rest. “Well then, how come they were the only ones who got to go off scr—”

“Hey you, what are you doing?”

Rey appeared suddenly at Ben’s elbow, touching his arm lightly and making him start and stumble a step into the room.

“Ben! Rey!” Poe noticed their arrival—had he known Ben was standing there a while?—and greeted them with open arms. “Way to fuck, you two!”

Ben recovered and gave a dry chuckle at the compliment. “Thanks?”

“Should we take a bow or something?” Rey joked, following Ben into the room and making a beeline for Rose.

“Nah, I think the time for that would’ve been right after Cuntslayer over here came,” Poe jabbed a thumb in Ben’s direction. Rey laughed and raised an eyebrow at Ben, like the suggestion wasn’t completely absurd, then fell into easy conversation with Rose as she helped her pack up equipment.

Meanwhile, Hux had stood and was making his way toward the door. As he passed into the hallway he muttered, just within earshot of Ben and Finn, “Too bad they were busy staring into each other’s eyes, isn’t it?”

For fuck’s sake, if Hux didn’t drop that already, Ben really was going to punch him in the face. Which hardly would’ve made a case for everything being _not weird._ So he refrained, but glared at Hux’s retreating form before turning his attention to Finn, who sensed the tension and was gamely trying to defuse it.

“Nice job,” Finn offered. 

Ben was getting tired of having his performance commented on. He supposed it should have been an ego boost, but instead it was just annoying. The only person whose opinion on the matter he was curious about was Rey, and he was currently on the fence as to whether he should ask her later if everything had been good for her (would _that_ be considered making it weird?), or if he should wait and see if she even brought it up. 

Either way, talking to Finn was better than fuming over Hux and whatever his problem was. “Thanks.” 

“It wasn’t the script. At all. But it was nice. Seemed natural?”

“Yeah, I guess. It did.” Ben nodded and grasped for a better answer. “Why didn’t you call cut when she started making things up?” He wasn’t angry about it, but he had to ask.

“She . . . ?” Finn’s eyes widened. “I thought you both must have done some last-second rewrites last night or something after the party.”

“After the party? You mean after we’d all been drinking? And then we just decided not to tell anyone?” Ben almost laughed. He didn’t buy Finn’s excuse, either. If there was a particular reason he’d let the scene continue to play out, it wasn’t that. “Not likely.”

“Huh. Well, should I have? Do you want to, I don’t know . . . reshoot next time, or something? I have a feeling Rey would be open to it.”

“ . . . no. It was fine. Just unplanned. No big deal.”

“She probably thought you needed to loosen up,” Finn said. When Ben frowned at him, he tried to qualify. “Listen, you _were_ kind of stiff in the beginning. After you both dropped the script it was . . . well. A lot better.”

“Glad you approve.”

Finn narrowed his eyes at him, and Ben thought he was about to dare to say something Ben wouldn’t want to hear about what had happened during the scene. Or just something about Rey, especially after what they’d talked about at the party. But instead he smiled benignly, and what he did say was somehow worse. 

“Well, you’re both surprisingly good actors. That was way more convincing than it needed to be.” 

He clapped Ben on the shoulder and walked off to help Poe pack up the camera, leaving Ben no time to respond.

Rey’s stomach gurgled again as she walked over towards Ben. “Hey,” she smiled, tapping his elbow to catch his attention. “They’ve got the rest of it under control. Do you want to get out of here?”

He stared blankly at her. “What?”

“I have a few bucks. We could be irresponsible and go to Tosche Station,” she suggested. “I’m _starving_ and they have the best pancakes in town.”

“Oh,” Ben replied, catching up to the conversation. “Sure. Do you want me to drive?”

“Could you?” Rey asked. She smiled and handed him the keys. “Don’t let it go to your head, but—you really wore me out.” 

Ben didn’t mind eating at Tosche Station anyway. It was the cheapest diner in town and open twenty-four hours a day, and they could walk home. Besides, he had a little bit of money left over from Lando that he’d held onto for occasions just like these. He had pinched pennies when buying equipment in hopes that he and Rey could have a decent meal from time to time, until the money from the movie started to roll in.

He took the keys and they drove in silence. During the drive, he glanced over at her every once in a while, noticing the way she squirmed a little in her seat, trying to get comfortable. “Did I hurt you?” he asked as he turned onto the highway.

He could hear Rey’s smile through the darkness as she replied, “No, you didn’t. I promise.”

“You can’t sit still.”

“Can I ever?” Ben stayed silent; she had a point. “I’m a bit sore because you’re . . . a little bigger than I’ve had in the past,” Rey confessed rather bluntly. “But it’s . . . alright. It’s good.”

The conversation ended there as the radio suddenly cut in, blaring Rihanna’s song “We Found Love” and jolting both of them out of their own minds. Rey smiled and turned it up, singing along. Ben indulged her and her musical tastes for the rest of the journey until they reached their apartment. He parked outside and together, just past three o’clock in the morning, they jay-walked to Tosche Station diner.

There were a few other late-night visitors, but for the most part, Ben and Rey had their pick of the place. They took the booth in the far back corner by the jukebox, the one they always tried to snag if they could. They’d frequented Tosche Station much more when they’d first become roommates, when they both had school and work and money to spare. Many a night was spent cramming for a final exam or finishing a paper with the aid of some ketchup-smothered fries.

Now the diner felt like a treat, even if Rey didn’t think they could really afford to splurge. She slid into her usual seat, not surprised in the least when Ben walked right past her, put a bit of spare change in the jukebox, and queued up some songs. He did this every time they visited, too picky about the music to not spare whatever coins he harbored in the pockets of his jeans.

He slid into the booth across from her as their waitress approached. It was the same woman they’d seen there for years. Her name tag said ‘Amy,’ but in a late-night conversation after bar close when Rey and Ben needed to sober up a bit, they’d somehow persuaded her to tell them her full name: Amilyn. 

Where her hair had been graying, it was now dyed bright purple, and it was the only splash of color on her. She wore the standard grey dress and white apron required for every waitress at Tosche Station, but she rebelled in the ways that she could. She was old, but this place was her home, and she always grinned a little brighter when she saw Rey and Ben take a seat in her section. “Long time no see,” she teased, handing them each a menu. “Coffee to start?”

“Yes please,” Rey smiled.

Ben just nodded. For as much as he could be a coffee snob, there was something about the dull roast and lukewarm temperature of the coffee at Tosche Station that he enjoyed. It spoke to the charm of the place, the comfort and memories it held for him. 

He glanced over the menu but already knew what he was going to get. Ben hadn’t really considered how closely Rey would choose to look at the menu, so he was caught off guard when she observed, “They raised the prices since we were here last.”

For a moment, he wanted to tell her not to worry about it. However, just to be sure, he checked his bank account on his phone to ensure that the balance was still what he thought it was. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “We have some money left over from Lando.”

Rey looked up sharply. “We do?”

Nodding, he explained, “I found a good deal on the cameras, and I wanted to have some on hand in case something went wrong. Besides, I don’t think he’d complain if we used it to treat ourselves to dinner, just this once.”

“We already used it to buy groceries too, remember?” she asked. “Shouldn’t we use it to pay the bills?”

Ben looked at Rey strangely. “How were you planning on paying for this, anyway? You were the one who suggested it,” he said.

She shrugged. “I have a few dollars in my bank account,” she said noncommittally. “And fries aren’t that much.”

He sighed heavily and studied Rey, taking in the way she still looked a little disheveled from their scene earlier, but also the way he’d noticed that she was thinner than she used to be—and not in a good way. He was too; he knew this. It was even more of a sign that they had to get their crap together. “Well, we have plenty left over from Lando to go crazy today. Get a few different things if you want. We’ll take the leftovers home,” he told her. “I mean it. Don’t think about how much it costs, just buy it, alright? Lando doesn’t mind taking care of us.”

“We’re grown adults,” she protested. “He shouldn’t have to take care of us.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “We’re adults trying to make it in a fucked up economy,” he said. “We’re doing the best we can with what we’ve got, and so is he. The difference is that Lando’s best is a lot more than ours. So just . . . take it, okay? I’m paying for our food, so get everything you want. I mean it.” Rey opened her mouth. “Don’t argue. Just do it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.”

He looked down at his menu. He didn’t need Rey picking apart his thoughtfulness—wondering why he was spending so much money on her. It all came down to the fact that he’d just made her come twice, she was sore and tired, and really, she made him look good on camera. He owed her a lot more than a few plates of food.

“Is this because I said I was sore?” she asked, a teasing smile growing on her face. “I promise, you _don’t_ have to make that up to me. It’s nice.”

“Nice?” Ben asked.

At that moment, Amilyn walked over and put two mugs and a carafe of coffee on the table for them, already prepared for them to take full advantage of the diner’s bottomless cup of coffee deal. “Do you two know what you want to order yet?” she asked with a coy smile. 

She knew she’d interrupted an important conversation; part of her wished she’d overheard. They’d been acting strangely since they’d walked through the doors.

Rey ordered pancakes, and then nodded to Ben to order as well. He ordered a cheeseburger (add bacon) and fries, and then sensing that Rey was going to want a lot more than pancakes, also ordered her some sides of bacon, scrambled eggs, and the last blueberry muffin in the bakery case. 

“Oh hey!” he called out as Amilyn turned to walk away. She faced him again, notepad at the ready. “We’ll take one of those giant chocolate milkshakes, too.”

“Two straws, like always?” she asked.

Ben nodded. Amused, Amilyn walked away to go put their order in. He pointedly ignored Rey’s look of shock and slight horror.

“Ben, we don’t have that—”

“So what was it you were saying before?” he interrupted. “You _like_ being sore?”

Rey abruptly kicked his shin under the table. “Don’t make it weird,” she warned.

Ben poured himself some coffee, and then flipped Rey’s cup over to pour her some, too. “I’m not making it weird,” he said simply. “You were telling me how you think it’s _nice_ that you’re sore after our scene, so I was asking you what you meant by that.”

“What is there to say?” she joked. “I’m going to be feeling it for days. But like I told you before: don’t let it go to your head.”

He glanced up at her. “It won’t. And I won’t make it weird.”

“You are.”

Ben sighed. “It’s something we did, and now it’s done.” He shrugged. “Right?”

Rey smiled, cradling her warm coffee cup in both hands. She sat with one leg bent beneath her, the sleeves of her sweatshirt—or maybe it was Ben’s—covering most of her hands. Rey’s hair was still messy, though he could tell she’d tried to brush out the tangles left by the hairspray and Ben’s hands. She looked beautiful. “Right,” she agreed. “We did it, and it was good, and now we move on. Finish the movie.”

Waving his hand around a little, Ben asked, “And to be clear, you’re sore because it was good, not because I was hurting you and you didn’t want to break the scene?”

“Ben!”

He tried to look appalled, but it was a genuine question, so he didn’t give any more explanation. Instead, he waited for Rey to realize he was being serious and give him a serious answer. “I told you, it was good and you didn’t hurt me,” she reassured him. “Everything that happened back there was totally genuine. You . . .” 

She trailed off, unable to find the words to fully describe how he’d made her feel. “You were so attentive and . . . gentle,” Rey explained, searching for the right words. She was looking at Ben with such an earnest look in her eyes it made his breath catch ever so slightly. “I’ve honestly never been with someone quite as focused as you were. I felt like all you cared about was _me._ Not the movie, or everyone else, just . . . us. And it was really nice.” She paused, hoping he understood how much his kindness had meant to her. “You have nothing to worry about. Everything I did or said in that room was real.”

Ben held her gaze, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. As frightening as it may be to realize, he had no reason to believe she was embellishing anything. Rey was honest and kind in a way that none of his few prior partners had ever been. Finally, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

At least she hadn’t said it was strange. He wasn’t sure how he’d handle it if she’d thought his attentiveness was for some bigger reason. He wanted the movie to succeed and for their scene to go well. That was all it was.

The mood at the table had shifted, and Ben wasn’t entirely sure what to say next. Now that they’d gotten it all out of the way, it felt like the right thing to do was just move on from it. Not talk about it anymore. They’d had sex on camera for money and that was the end of it.

Except he had one more thing he needed to bring up.

“I’m a little insulted you went off-script, though,” Ben said, a joking smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Was my dialogue not good enough for you?”

Rey burst out laughing. When her laughter subsided, she took another sip of her coffee, eyes sparkling as she gazed up at him over the rim of her glass. “It was fine,” she shrugged. “But you were stiff, and not in the way we needed you to be.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Ben replied, pretending to be insulted.

Rey giggled again, this time setting her coffee down so she could fiddle with her napkin. “What you wrote was fine, but I did what I had to do so we could have a successful scene,” Rey said simply. “And if you ask me, ours is the best one in the film.”

“Well I should hope it is,” Ben replied. “It’s the climax of the whole movie.”

Rey was sleep deprived enough that she snorted with amusement at the word _climax_ , to which Ben heavily rolled his eyes. 

This was good. It wasn’t weird. The two of them were getting along and not dwelling on their scene. They weren’t dwelling on how either of them had just experienced the best sex of their lives. The best orgasm. The most attentive partner. None of that. What they were focused on now was the food Amilyn was putting in front of them, and that there was a faint trace of hope in the distance, growing ever closer.

One more scene and they could edit the film and start making money. They could get out of the hole of debt they’d dug for themselves. They could better their lives.

But first, it was time to stuff their faces with more food than they’d seen in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get it on and crank it up to eleven over on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1).
>
>>   
> Furry Walls - Infant Sorrow  
> Supertight - Jackie Q  
> My Neck, My Back - Elle King  
> Rhinestone Eyes - Gorillaz  
> Pynk - Janelle Monae, Grimes  
> Every Other Freckle - alt-J  
> We Found Love - Rihanna  
> Careless Whisper - George Michael


	11. Hot Tub is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after his scene with Rey, Ben decides that the script needs some last-minute revisions, which Rey doesn't fully approve of. Cue Rey spending some time with the crew without Ben, drinking in Hux's hot tub and enjoying a viewing of their source material: Game of Thrones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Dot for being a wonderful beta. And thank you so much to all of you who have subscribed, commented, or read this fic so far! We really hope you stick around to the end to see what happens to all these crazy kids.

After stuffing their faces at the diner, Ben and Rey had paid the bill (it wasn’t nearly as appalling as Ben had anticipated, though he had a sneaking suspicion Amilyn forgot to charge them for a few things), and then they’d walked back home. Things felt normal. 

But then they disappeared into their separate bedrooms, and Ben felt odd about it. He’d fucked his roommate. His best friend. The girl who’d been a constant in his life for close to ten years now.

When he pulled his phone from his pocket to plug it in for the night, Ben saw that a text message was waiting for him. Several, actually. Odd, given that most people aside from Rey didn’t bother texting him because he was so bad at texting back.

_hey ben its finn don’t be mad rey gave me ur number_  
_just wanted to say thanks for looking out for her today. i could tell u were gonna take care of her!_  
_i’m glad she’s got a friend like u in her life!!_

Ben stared at the screen for a moment, at the text messages Finn had sent in succession, his enthusiasm and love for Rey clear with each message.

_I’m glad she’s got a friend like you in her life._

The words resonated in his head as he tried desperately to sleep. _Friend. Friend. Friend._ Yes, Ben was her friend. He looked out for her—they looked out for each other, and this movie was clear, undying proof of that fact.

And now suddenly, as her friend, the scene they’d shot just a few hours before felt . . . different. He knew he shouldn’t be weird about it. He had no reason to be weird about it.

But it was _really fucking weird_ knowing what Rey sounded like when she came, what things turned her on, what she tasted like on his tongue. And sure, Ben could handle it because he could handle most things, but . . .

It struck him in that moment that Finn wasn’t like him. They may have found a common ground because they both cared for Rey, but . . . Finn wouldn’t be able to handle being intimate with her. Not the way Ben could. Could he? 

He didn’t get much sleep that night, his head too busy running through the many possibilities of what could happen to Finn and Rey’s friendship if they followed through with the scene the next day. So many things could go wrong, could become strange.

The movie needed a revision, and fast.

Ben only managed to get a few hours of uneasy attempts at sleep before he accepted that it wasn’t going to happen and just turned on the lamp by his bed. Stupid insomnia. 

Electricity still felt so novel, after going without it for so many days. He retrieved his laptop from the corner where it was charging, and opened it up to look over the script.

One last revision couldn’t hurt.

The next morning, Rey wandered out of her room long after the sun rose in the sky, smiling blissfully at the smell of fresh coffee wafting through their apartment. It had been so long since they’d been able to make coffee at home, and Ben made the perfect cup. Rey trudged as quickly as her tired body would move, bare feet padding on the linoleum. Being warm was _so nice._

“Morning,” Rey intoned as she reached for a coffee mug from the cupboard near the sink.

The hem of the tee shirt she’d worn to bed the night before rode up, revealing the the yellow panties underneath and the swell of her ass, and Ben had to look away. Even after their scene the day before, he couldn’t look; now he’d blush and remember what they’d done, how far they’d gone off script in front of _everyone_. It had been amazing, but also . . . everyone saw. They’d watched Ben grapple horribly to try to keep up with Rey’s script improvisations; and even worse, everyone had seen him fall apart under Rey’s touch.

Rey poured herself some coffee and looked over her shoulder at Ben, whose head was ducked as he looked into his cup. Quizzically, Rey asked, “What’s the matter?”

When she turned to face Ben, she realized for the first time just how rough he looked. His hair was hanging in his face, a bit greasy. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept at all. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes and he sipped from a mug that had enough stains on the sides to tell Rey it had been filled up multiple times over. Her brow furrowed with concern; they’d exhausted themselves the night before so it was hard for Rey to fathom how he hadn’t slept like a baby for hours on end.

Ben heaved a deep breath. As he’d waited for her to wake after he made revisions to the script, he’d been mulling a lot of things over in his head. Thoughts about the movie, about their scene, about what scenes were left to shoot. He trailed his thick finger along the rim of his cup before he said, “I’ve been thinking about the movie.”

“What about it?” Rey asked, crossing the kitchen to sit on the counter barstool next to him.

She watched him curiously; they were so close to being done, which also meant closer to editing and distribution so they could rake in the money they so desperately needed. “I just think . . . we don’t really need today’s scene,” he confessed. “I was going to be filmed out of order anyway, because Phasma had a work thing, but . . . your character had her awakening, and I think that the things she learned to get there were enough. Like, the stuff we shot already. It’s more impactful, I think, if she just comes the one time. She learned. She—”

“Well technically speaking, she came _twice_ ,” Rey laughed.

“Rey, be serious.”

Her smile fell and with it, the whole room seemed to lose its luster. Ben sighed and looked away. He shook his head and said, “As writer, producer, and director, I’m making the executive decision that today’s scene is just superfluous. The storyline is actually better without it.”

“I helped you write it! Why can’t I have a say?” Rey argued.

He sighed and combed a hand through his hair. “You made edits in the document. That’s different.”

She was annoyed now, because none of his reasoning felt genuine. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his true motives for cutting her scene were clear. 

“You just don’t want me to hook up with Finn.”

She looked at Ben with anger and hurt in her eyes. She’d told him from the start that he didn’t need to coddle her or protect her. That she could do this. “I can handle no strings attached sex with my friends,” she insisted. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s the _real_ reason you don’t want me to do this today?”

Ben’s dark eyes found hers and the anger flaring within them startled Rey just the slightest. She’d never seen that anger directed at her, not in a very long time. “I told you. The story feels complete without it.”

She shook her head as she stood, her coffee sloshing in her mug. She was irate, borderline on fuming, and she couldn’t stand this. “Ben, it’s _one scene_. It’ll be fun!”

“We don’t need it!”

The two of them fixed glares on each other, both stubborn to the point of not speaking, refusing to budge on the issue. 

Rey, not fully awake enough to have a brain-to-mouth filter, blurted out the next thing that came to mind.

“You just don’t want me to fuck them because you liked it yesterday! You’re _jealous_!”

“I’m _not._ ”

He stood now, his anger tensing every muscle in his body. “You want to know the real reason?” he continued. His voice was thick, booming, like a megaphone shouting in Rey’s ear, practically. She hadn’t realized he could be this loud, this intimidating. He was usually so soft around her, or just mildly annoyed.

“Yes!” she wailed.

“Finn is like a brother to you,” he barked. “If you fucked him, it’d be wrong. It’d be like incest. We _cannot_ have incest in our movie.”

Rey’s mouth dropped open and she looked appalled. Words failed her for a moment. 

“Okay for one thing, incest is par for the course in _Game of Thrones_. You should have chosen different source material if you wanted to avoid that.” She put her hands on her hips. “Besides, like I’ve said many times, Finn and I are _just friends_. Nobody said anything about siblings!” She stomped as she crossed the kitchen to set her mug on the counter with a loud thud. “You’re ridiculous, Ben. We said we weren’t going to be weird about this, and now you’re being weird.”

She stormed down the hallway and into her room, leaving Ben standing alone in the kitchen, fuming. He took a few more sips of his coffee, but to no avail. Not even a new, warm cup of the stuff could save him at this point. He combed a hand through his hair, and then dragged his hand down his cleanly shaven face. He felt even more ridiculous for going through all that effort now that he realized it hardly mattered to Rey at all. None of it had meant anything.

As soon as she emerged from her room, dressed in jeans and a sweater with a backpack slung over her shoulder, he stepped towards her. She glared in response, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. “I’m not jealous,” he protested. “I’m trying to save your friendship with Finn.”

“You’re being a selfish, jealous ass,” Rey replied flatly, setting down her backpack so she could bundle up before trudging into the cold. “I’m a grown woman and I can fuck whoever I want, thank you very much.” 

“It’s _whomever_.”

Rey roared in anger. Now was not the time for him to be pedantic. She tossed her winter jacket over her shoulders before she retrieved her bag from where she’d unceremoniously dumped it on the floor. “Now, I’m leaving. I’ll see you at Hux’s.”

She stormed out the door, muttering under her breath about something—likely, about Ben. He just stood there, aghast. His reasoning had been so sound. The story really _did_ work better without the weird threesome in there. Rey didn’t need to shoot that scene. The princess’s story arc made way more sense without it, in fact.

And the part about Finn hadn’t totally been a lie. For as much as he’d thought Finn wanted to sleep with her, after having a civil conversation with him, Ben had realized all that affection had been taken the wrong way. Finn cared about Rey because they’d had to be survivors together. Because they’d had to support each other when nobody else supported them. That didn’t mean Finn wanted to get into her pants. And now, after getting to know Finn a little, he actually believed it.

Which also meant that he didn’t want their friendship to be sacrificed because Rey was worried she wasn’t getting around enough in the movie. Hadn’t she realized that every character only got one scene?

Ben was pulled from his thoughts as the door swung back open. Rey was a tiny ball of flying limbs and ends of scarves as she bustled back through the door, breathless.

“And I’m taking the car!” she panted defiantly as she snatched the keys off the counter. 

The door slammed behind her as she left, and Ben stood alone in the kitchen once more. Everything she had said was _wrong_. She didn’t know the truth. She knew nothing about him. He was coming from the right place with his suggestion. He was sure of it. Rey was just being stubborn, as usual.

But to prove his own point, Ben would be stubborn, too. It was the one thing his parents handed down to him that he was proud to have inherited. He’d learned from the best, and he’d throw it right back in Rey’s face.

If she wanted to be petty, he could be, too.

Rey stomped the entire way down to the car, fuming at how unreasonable Ben was being about this. He’d written it into the script, so he couldn’t hate the idea _that_ much, not to mention the fact that it was her body, her choice, and if she felt like she could handle fooling around with her best friend, then he should trust her.

Revving up the engine, she tore out of the driveway as fast as the little Buick would let her. It rattled and protested, given the fact that she hadn’t bothered to let it warm up first, but she knew how hard she could push this car. And she hadn’t pushed it too far, yet.

“He’s ridiculous,” Rey seethed at her steering wheel.

She sighed heavily, nearly running a red light. The tires screeched to a halt and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, willing herself to just let it go. Ben was coming from a place of care and love, wasn’t he?

“No.”

Rey spoke firmly to herself. She glared at the red light until it turned green. “He’s jealous, that’s _it_. It’s nothing more,” she murmured to herself. “Get it together, Rey.”

She was incredibly familiar with the route to Hux’s house now—right at the lights, follow the main drag to the highway, take the highway east for ten minutes, turn off into the gated community. _Easy_. Yet the entire drive, as she gripped the steering wheel tightly with anger and frustration, Rey nearly missed each and every turn. She was distracted.

She knew that she really, probably, shouldn’t be driving. Not that Ben would have driven any better than her. It wasn’t safe. But they had work to do.

“We’re just stressed,” Rey told herself, trying to talk herself down from the anger. “We need to get these bills paid so we need this project to work. He trusts me. He _does_.”

Rey released a shaky breath and forced the window to roll down a few inches so she could type in the code for Hux’s gated community. Her mittens lay forgotten at home, so her hand nearly froze as she reached out to type on the keypad. Everything about this place emanated an opulence Rey didn’t think she deserved to be around. It was hard to grapple with some days.

Rey blinked a few times to push the tears away as the gate opened, and then hit the gas pedal. The car groaned and pulled forward, leaving Rey to worry whether the car would work for her on the way home that evening. She was driving it hard.

“You’ve got this, baby,” she reached out to pat the dashboard, as though the car could hear her. “Just a few more weeks and we can get you feeling like brand new.”

More than that, the car needed to keep working because they weren’t going to be able to afford to fix it right away. It needed parts that Han couldn’t give her for free. Even if the labor was free because Rey could do it herself, those parts would cost a fortune.

As Rey pulled up the drive, she realized that she was the last to arrive. All the usual cars were there—Phasma’s, Finn’s, Rose’s. Poe’s motorcycle was nowhere to be found, but Rey assumed he’d driven over with Finn.

When she walked inside, Rose cheered. “Finally! They’re here!” 

She rushed to Rey’s side to corral her to the dining room where they’d already set up the makeup and hair products they’d need to get Rey ready for her scene. Finn was off to the side, picking at his tightly-wound curls atop his head with a lazy touch. Poe and Hux were off in the kitchen somewhere, quibbling about something. Rey didn’t listen.

As Rose got started on Rey’s hair, she looked around and asked, “Didn’t you come over here with Ben?”

Rey frowned. She didn’t know how much of the fight she wanted to divulge, if anything. It felt oddly private, a thing that everyone else would just find to be petty and dumb.

Phasma sat in front of Rey, leaning over to blend some concealer underneath her eyes and make her look more like Princess Winter—refreshed, young, and beautiful. Rey felt like none of that. She wasn’t in the mood for any of this, but she’d begged and pleaded and fought for this scene to happen, so it was _going_ to happen.

“He’s coming over on his own,” Rey said flatly.

It was all she said on the matter, and Phasma’s warning look to Rose told her not to pry, at least not now. Ben would be there. He wouldn’t skip out on this. It was far too important, even if they’d just disagreed on whether or not it would happen.

Poe and Hux wandered out a few minutes later with bottles of beer clutched between their fingers. “You drink too much,” Phasma said offhandedly, not even looking up from where she was now putting the lightest dusting of eyeshadow on Rey’s eyelids.

Busy as she was, Phasma took a beer all the same, but before she was able to take a drink she was distracted by the voracity with which Rey took hold of her own bottle of beer. Rey brought the bottle to her lips and tipped her head back, interrupting all the hard work both Phasma and Rose were doing to make her look presentable. Her throat bobbed as she gulped back more, more, more, until the bottle was empty in her hands. The last drops lingered on her lips as Rey slammed it down on the table and looked back down at her lap as she’d been doing just minutes prior.

Everyone stared.

“Rey . . . what’s going on?” Finn asked cautiously from where he stood in the living room. He was at least twenty feet away but didn’t dare step any closer.

Rey took a deep breath. “Nothing! I’m fine,” she lied, plastering a fake smile on her face. “I was just very thirsty, and I’m a bit nervous.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, it’s just sex,” Poe said, trying to be warm and comforting. “Not even that! You guys are just going to do a little foreplay. You get to come a few times and then _boom!_ you’re done.”

“Hux, please remove Dameron from the room before I break his jaw,” Phasma said in the lightest, most polite tone anyone had ever heard her use.

“It’s not _my_ responsibility to—”

“Just do it,” Rose snapped.

Hux looked between the women in the dining room giving him orders, both of them now looking dangerously fierce and protective. Rather than arguing, Hux turned to Poe and with a very pointed gaze, nodded his head towards the living room where Finn stood. The three men stayed closely huddled, talking in hushed tones and glancing out the windows, down the drive where Ben’s ride should pull up at any moment.

“Rey,” Rose began. “If you’re nervous, you don’t have to go through with this.”

Rey swallowed past a lump in her throat. “It’s in the script. I’ll be fine. I was nervous before I filmed my scene with Ben, too, and that was okay,” she reassured Rose.

“This is different,” Rose said. “This is sex with your friends. People you don’t think of in that way. Everything for this movie _needs_ to be consensual.”

Scowling, Rey snapped, “I don’t think of Ben that way, either. And I fully consent. You know I wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

Rose pursed her lips closed. She didn’t want to argue with Rey, not when she was in a stubborn mood like this. Rose put a few more spritzes of hairspray on Rey’s three cascading buns down her head and then she was done styling her hair. Phasma only had to help with the mascara, and then Rey would be ready to go. 

“Rey,” Phasma said softly, a private conversation shared just between the two of them. “I can’t put your mascara on with all those tears.”

Rey blinked her eyes open, not realizing until that moment, with her eyesight blurry, that she _was_ crying. She let out a shaky breath and didn’t protest when Phasma pulled her into a hug.

It should have been strange. The two of them weren’t that close. But Rey was hurting, upset from her argument with Ben earlier, and Phasma was being warm and kind. Rey needed comfort. She needed someone to make her feel like she hadn’t just ruined her last chance at getting out of debt by pissing off Ben to the point that he’d abandon their film.

But when Rey looked up and saw the looks of pity on all three of the men’s faces—even Hux’s—she had her answer. Rey knew what was happening.

Ben wasn’t going to show up. The movie was over—abandoned, and likely never going to be finished—and now Rey was stuck in even more debt than before, with no hopes of pulling herself out of it.

She turned her head away from everyone’s prying eyes and just let the tears fall.

Phasma ushered Rey into the living room where they sat in the center of one of the sofas. She kept her arms wrapped protectively around Rey, and looked up at the men. Hux glanced out the window, and then back to Phasma, shaking his head. “Rey, we can postpone the scene for a couple of days,” Finn suggested.

“Yeah,” Poe offered lamely. “Maybe he just got called into work again. You know how he’s been lately about taking shifts whenever they come up.”

Rey dabbed at her eyes, not even realizing when she streaked makeup all over her hand. Phasma ignored it and chose instead to pat Rey’s back in what she hoped was a comforting manner. “We’re going to postpone the scene,” Phasma decided. “In the meantime, Hux is going to text Ben and see what’s going on, and you and I are going to wash that makeup off your face.”

“I’m sorry,” Rey sniffled. “Everyone came here to—”

“That’s enough of that,” Phasma said simply. Rose offered a package of makeup remover wipes to Phasma, who took it gratefully. “Now, come on. We’re done for the day.”

“Yeah,” Poe nodded. He glanced at Hux, who had stepped to the side to send a text message to Ben, and then back to Rey and Phasma. “Hey, you know what? Since you made the trip out here, let’s make it worth it. There’s a hot tub upstairs. We could get that going, you could sit in there and relax. Cry a little, if you need to.”

Rey sniffled again. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“We’ve all basically seen each other naked, except Rose,” Poe said. “What’s a little skinny dipping between friends?”

Rey snorted, the laughter overruling her tears. She took a makeup wipe from Phasma and started to dab at her face. Rey felt pathetic for crying, for getting so worked up after the fight that morning, but even more so now that everyone was being so kind to her about it. Even Hux had kept the snide remarks at bay. Either that meant things were really bad, or it meant that they had somehow become friends throughout all of this.

Secretly, Rey hoped it was the latter, though her gut told her it was the former.

“Alright, then,” she agreed, just as Hux walked back to rejoin the group. He’d pocketed his phone and looked like he didn’t intend on telling anyone what, if anything, Ben had sent to him in reply. “Let’s do it.”

Poe let out a whoop of excitement, and Rose and Phasma both smiled at Rey. 

“Do what?” Hux asked.

The others exchanged glances while Poe smirked. “You’ll see,” he replied. “But before you do, let’s grab something to drink, huh?” Poe suggested, putting his hand on the small of Hux’s back to lead him to the kitchen. “Something _strong_.”

“Dameron . . .”

Rey giggled, and the mood in the room shifted. Ben might be a stubborn shit, but their friends knew how to help make the best of a bad situation, and for that she was endlessly grateful.

Phasma gave her a pat on the back and encouraged her to sit up and wipe away the tears; they were going to have a good evening. She was determined. Nobody paid any mind as Poe escorted Hux into the kitchen, the others too busy with gathering their things so they could go upstairs to where Phasma knew the hot tub was.

In the kitchen, Hux begrudgingly stood by the counter island, watching Poe through narrowed eyes. “Please tell me why you’re plying me with alcohol before allowing me upstairs in _my own home_?”

Poe laughed as he dug around the kitchen like it was his now, fetching two glasses from the cupboard next to the fridge. He stood on his tiptoes and nearly dropped the glasses, giving Hux a small heart attack. Dameron really needed to be more careful—in the kitchen, but also in life in general. The man was going to die on that motorcycle of his, one day.

“We’re using the hot tub.”

Poe set the glasses on the counter and tried to sound as casual as could be as he dug in the bottom left cupboard for the brandy Hux had stored there. He knew it was Hux’s favorite kind; he’d sipped on it every night since the two of them had hooked up, and often ordered it at Kanata’s, as well.

“I don’t see why that matters,” Hux replied irritably.

He took the glass of brandy offered to him, and eyed it warily before glancing at Poe. Stupid, beautiful Poe with his damn eyelashes and that charming smirk that managed to weasel its way into Hux’s tolerance. “Nobody has their bathing suit except for you,” Poe added.

Hux looked positively unamused as he stared at Poe. “No. Absolutely not.”

Poe chuckled and reached out, touching the bottom of Hux’s glass to help him raise it to his lips. “Just drink,” he said. “I’ll bring the cheaper liquor upstairs with us, but you should have some of the good stuff, first.”

“We are not—” Hux protested, the glass resting on his lower lip.

“Come on, Fux,” Poe coaxed him, smirking.

Hux took a small sip of the brown liquor as it brushed against his mouth. 

“Listen—” Poe continued. “It’ll be weird as hell, but Rey is really bent out of shape after Ben ditched her today. So we’re going to go up there, and we’re going to drink in the hot tub, and we’re going to take her mind off things for a while.”

“She’s _your friend_ , not mine.”

Poe laughed and clapped Hux on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever you say,” he replied.

As Hux drank the brandy faster than he usually did, Poe dug around in the cupboard until he found a liquor that was cheap enough for Hux to consent to sharing with the group. Holding up a bottle of Grey Goose vodka, Poe raised an eyebrow. Hux didn’t respond, which Poe took to mean, _sure, I don’t mind sharing that with you and my four friends upstairs._

Poe unscrewed the cap on the bottle of brandy one last time and topped off Hux’s cup. He had the feeling Hux intended on getting rather inebriated, to ignore the fact that he was about to step into a hot tub, naked, with five other people. “You’re doing a good thing for Rey, by letting us get away with this,” Poe said softly.

“I told you, she’s not my friend,” Hux said curtly. “She _cried_. In my _house_. I don’t know what to do with that.”

Poe smiled. “But you didn’t do anything, and that’s a big step for you.”

Hux narrowed his eyes again. “You owe me,” he warned.

Cheerfully, Poe walked across the room and nodded to the stairway, beckoning for Hux to follow him. “Sure thing, Fux,” Poe teased. “I’ll do anything you want, so long as you come upstairs and sit by me in the hot tub.”

Annoyed, Hux sauntered right past him, leading the shorter man up the stairs. “We’re not boyfriends, Dameron,” he reminded him.

To that, Poe just laughed.

Upstairs, Phasma had already made quick work of opening up the hot tub and getting the jets started. Rose, Rey, and Finn all stood in the room—it wasn’t a _bathroom_ , per se. The room had clearly been built for the specific purpose of holding a hot tub and entertaining small groups of people. There was a massive flat-screen television on one wall and dark emerald-green marble countertops that contrasted with sleek white walls and golden accents, and the lighting was all dim and subtle. _Soothing._

The room was immaculate, just like the rest of the Supremacy, and the mood there combined with the kindness shown to her by her friends helped to put Rey at ease. She’d washed away her makeup and had left just one of the ponytails that Rose had put up for her. It held about a third of her hair at the crown of her head, and as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, Rey couldn’t help but observe that her hair really did look nice like this.

She’d have to remember that. Usually she either left her hair down or tied it all up and out of the way.

Unfortunately for Hux, he and Poe arrived before anyone had a chance to undress, which meant that the six of them were to undress together. “Don’t make this a big deal,” Phasma said simply as she pulled her shirt up and over her head. It ruffled her blonde hair a little, but she still looked incredibly poised standing before them in her trousers and bra. Rey admired her for that. “We’ve all seen each other naked before.”

“She’s not wrong,” Poe agreed, setting the bottle of Grey Goose on the floor next to the hot tub.

“Except me,” Rose chimed in with a giggle. “But that’s okay.”

“Yeah, see?” Poe added. “Rose says it’s fine!”

He shrugged off his leather jacket and unbuckled his belt, and Hux just stood there for a moment in the doorway wondering how on earth his quiet life of privacy had somehow devolved into _this._

“You know,” Poe leaned over to whisper to Hux as Finn, Rose, and Rey also started shedding clothing, “if you don’t get a move on, everyone will be done before you, so we’ll all be able to stare when you finally do decide to join us.”

Hux looked to Poe, wholly unamused, and set aside his glass of brandy. 

“If you’re shy, you can go get one of your fancy designer bathing suits,” Phasma joked as she stood stark naked next to the hot tub. “I don’t expect you to be as brave as the rest of us, _Armie._ ”

Rey giggled a little at the use of Hux’s abbreviated first name. Red-faced and glowering, Hux tried not to shy away under her gaze as he unbuttoned his shirt. She was rather unabashedly looking at the faint traces of bare chest peeking out as he let his shirt fall open.

“You’re terrible people. All of you.”

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, Hux joined the fray, disrobing and pointedly looking away as everyone climbed into the hot tub. Even Rose, who wasn’t in their movie, didn’t seem to mind the nudity of everyone in the room. There she was, sitting naked in the hot tub between Finn and Rey like it was no big deal. Phasma sat on her own across from the stairs into the hot tub, and Hux took the only spot left, in the water next to Poe.

Poe’s arm rested on the back edge of the hot tub, behind Hux’s shoulders, though he didn’t dare touch him yet. Hux had his glass of brandy in hand, and Poe held the full bottle of Grey Goose in his hand. “Alright, drink up everyone,” Poe said, holding up the bottle in toast. “To the star of our show—Princess Winter.”

Poe took a swig of vodka and then held the bottle out to Rey, who sat across the hot tub from him.

Her cheeks were already a bit red, and her eyes were glassy, but she was keeping it together pretty well, all things considered. Everyone there save for perhaps Hux admired Rey for her strength and perseverance. She’d been through a lot in her twenty-eight years. More than the rest of them combined, probably. She took a drink of the vodka and made a scrunched-up face at the taste.

Handing the bottle off to Rose, Rey said softly, “You’re sweet, Poe, but if Ben ditched us, we can’t finish the movie.”

“Of course we can. We have the cameras and the scripts, and most of the scenes are done already. Easy.”

Phasma hummed. “Except distributing the scenes with Ben in them would be like releasing someone’s sex tape,” she reminded them. “Not good.”

“As much as I’d love to embarrass Solo, she’s right,” Hux said, the faintest trace of disappointment on his face. “Not to mention the entire script belongs to him. Suddenly actually using the name Brienne of Tarth in the script would be nothing compared to the copyright lawsuit this could incite if Ben got word that we’d distributed his film without his permission.” Hux didn’t shy away from looking right into Rey’s eyes as he said, “You’d end up even more broke than before the movie.”

“Ben wouldn’t do that,” Rey argued.

Finn rather gravely added, “We also thought he wouldn’t abandon you.”

“How do we know he abandoned Rey, though?” Rose asked, shocking everyone by coming to Ben’s defense. “Maybe he got called into work?”

Rey took the bottle of vodka and drank another vile gulp. She avoided everyone’s concerned gazes. 

“He would have told one of us,” Phasma suggested.

“Let’s just . . . not film anything for a couple of days, wait for him to come around,” Poe suggested. “He needs the money. You both do. It’ll be fine.”

“Agreed.” Rose patted Rey’s shoulder and took the bottle of vodka from her. “Now, let’s have a good night, alright?”

She took a drink of vodka and passed it to Finn. “We _will_ turn things around,” she insisted. “Think about everything we’ve accomplished. And how you all got _laid_.” Rose snickered.

After Finn took a drink, he passed the vodka across the hot tub to Hux, who automatically handed the bottle to Poe. “I gotta say,” Poe began, taking a swig from the bottle, “that has been a really great perk of this whole project. So thanks for that, Rey.”

“You were getting laid anyway,” Rey said. She had an amused sparkle in her eye. “You all were.”

Poe snorted and tipped back the bottle again. “I don’t know about _all_ of us,” he said, before passing the bottle to Phasma. Nobody noticed the way Poe glanced to Hux after he spoke.

“I’m positive you were all getting more than me,” Rey argued.

“But to be fair, you weren’t exactly looking for it, either,” Rose reminded Rey. “You’ve been working a lot.”

Rey sunk a little lower in the water, letting the warm bubbles tickle her chin. She shrugged. “I don’t know. I always felt weird about bringing anyone around,” Rey confessed. “Part of me felt like it would have been really strange to bring someone back. Make him feel weird about not finding anyone.”

“Wait, you and Solo _did_ have sex with other people over the last ten years, right?” Hux blurted out.

Poe shoved his shoulder in warning, and then used that excuse to leave his hand there, resting on Hux’s freckled shoulder. He glanced over out of the corner of his eye to see if Hux was unhappy about this, but he looked no more unhappy than usual, so Poe figured he could get away with it. 

“Of course he did.” Rey rolled her eyes. “I did, too.” She hesitated before adding, “Not a lot, but . . . some. Usually at the other person’s place, not ours.”

Rey didn’t divulge any more than that, because truth be told, her scene with Ben was the first time she’d had sex in several years, and her record before that was spotted, at best. Finding a partner took time and energy, even just for a one night stand. And she’d never, in their ten years of living together, seen Ben bring someone home.

Phasma passed the bottle of vodka to her left, so Rey could have another drink. It was time to change the subject.

“What have you got for us to watch in here?” she asked, looking to Hux. She eyed Poe’s hand on Hux’s shoulder, and had already taken note of the rather obvious placement under the water of Rose’s hand on Finn’s thigh, so she knew it was time to start distracting Rey.

“Whatever you want, really,” Hux said, reaching over the edge of the hot tub for the remote controls. “I’ve got Apple TV.”

“Let’s put on a little _Game of Thrones_ , shall we? Nothing like some brutal battles to cheer us up, right, Rey?” Phasma suggested.

Rey forced a laugh, and for a moment everything seemed to be looking up again.

Hux switched on season seven of _Game of Thrones_ , the group of them laughing when Brienne had to deal with Tormund’s awkward advances, and Rey swooning when Jaime Lannister came on the screen. They continued to share the bottle in a circle around the hot tub, but in the end, Rey held it close to her chest, taking sips until Phasma took it away from her.

The minutes ticked on, with Phasma growing more aware as the time passed at how the couples in the hot tub were very obviously going to end up disappearing to rooms together. Rose rested her head on Finn’s shoulder as she watched the battles on screen unfold. 

Hux had grown increasingly more intoxicated as the evening had stretched on, as well, to the point that he and Poe shifted to face the TV and Hux leaned back to rest against Poe. Poe’s arm draped unabashedly over Hux’s shoulder, fingers grazing gently over Hux’s chest. Everyone was so distracted by each other—or in Rey’s case, she was so distracted by _Game of Thrones_ and her bottle of vodka—they didn’t see how soft and tender Hux and Poe had become with each other that evening.

When Phasma noticed Finn turning his head and pressing a kiss to Rose’s forehead, she decided it was time to start wrapping things up.

Thankfully, a few minutes later, the end credits came on. “Alright, Rey,” she said, coaxing the bottle of vodka away from her. “What do you say you and I go settle in for the night? It’s getting late, and we’ve had a long day.”

Phasma, likely the most sober in the hot tub, knew what Rey needed: to be away from anything resembling a romantic couple. Rey nodded, Phasma’s voice pulling her from the dizzy swirl of thoughts in her head. She’d tuned out watching _Game of Thrones_ , but now she was pulled back to reality. 

The others sat up, suddenly conscious of the rest of the group, as Rey and Phasma stood in the water. Phasma took one of Rey’s hands to guide her out of the hot tub, and it became obvious to all just how much Rey had had to drink. Rose frowned. “Do you need help?”

“I’ve got her,” Phasma replied, steadying Rey by placing a hand on her back.

“I’m alright,” Rey insisted, her words slurred. “Just tired.”

Phasma took a towel from the cabinet and offered it to Rey. “I know you are,” Phasma insisted.

She could see the sadness in Rey’s eyes, though, especially when she started to look around at the rest of the group; though the couples were sitting up, they were still very clearly holding onto each other—even Hux and Poe. Her glassy eyes began to fill with tears, and Phasma guided her to the door. “Did Ben text you back?” Rey asked lamely.

Hux glanced over to the counter where his cell phone lay. “It doesn’t matter,” Phasma said, just as Rey pressed the home button on Hux’s iPhone. 

There were no new messages.

Rey stood up a little taller, clutching the towel around her shoulders, and tried not to cry. “That’s enough of that,” Phasma insisted. “Let’s get you to bed. He’s at work, and he’ll text you later.”

Together, Rey and Phasma took their time walking down the hallway, Phasma supporting Rey’s weight and guiding her in a straight line as best she could. “What if he doesn’t text back?” 

“There’s no use in thinking like that,” Phasma admonished. “He’s not that kind of guy. He cares about you.”

She found the closest empty bedroom—the Supremacy had many, thankfully—and guided Rey inside. “You’re going to be all right, Rey,” Phasma insisted. “You just need a good night’s sleep.”

“But how do you _know_?” Rey asked tearfully. “You know everything, and you’re usually always right, but. . .”

“There’s no use thinking like that. Come now, into bed.”

Rey shrugged off her towel and climbed into bed, completely trusting of Phasma and her instructions. Phasma sat down on the bed with Rey and pushed her hair out of her face as she laid down and blinked away the tears in her eyes, trying so hard to be tough. “You’ll be just fine, Rey,” Phasma echoed, patting her hair in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

Rey nodded, but her face screwed up in tears anyway. Phasma slid under the blankets and knew her role that evening would be continue to comfort Rey. “Come here,” she said, pulling her into her arms.

Rey curled up against Phasma’s side, crying into her shoulder as the alcohol compounded her tiredness and slowly pulled her into a deep sleep. Phasma sighed, rubbing Rey’s back as she listened to the tears subsiding and the evening out of her breath. She hoped for both Rey’s sake and everyone else’s that Ben would get his shit together, and soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's playlist, for your listening pleasure:
> 
> 11 // Hot Tub is Coming  
> Cherry - Lana del Rey  
> Why Can’t I? - Liz Phair  
> My Emotions Are Blinding - Tennis  
> Heart of Glass - Old School Freight Train  
> Portions for Foxes - Rilo Kiley  
> Jar of Hearts - Christina Perri


	12. Brisket is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After drowning her sorrows in the hot tub and a bottle of vodka, Rey wakes up with the mother of all hangovers—and Phasma seizes the opportunity to help her face some inconvenient truths.
> 
> As for Ben, he's making a trip to the Solo-Organa homestead for dinner with his parents . . . and a very special visitor who has some tempting ideas for how to solve Ben's problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thank-yous once again to Dot for helping us in every way as beta reader!

Sleeping helped, Rey supposed, but it did nothing for the hangover that immediately assailed her on waking. Phasma had already gone, which made Rey a little sad for some nebulous reason that she knew had nothing to actually do with Phasma. It had to do with . . . _no_. She was still mad at Ben. Pissed. Furious. And he was _not_ the person she wanted to be thinking of mere moments after waking up with a pounding headache and an awful burbly-gurgly feeling in her stomach. 

Although she had work that afternoon, just then it was sorely tempting to call out sick. She _never_ called out sick. Either Han would be happy to see her finally taking advantage of the benefit, or he’d worry that something must be seriously wrong with her. It sort of felt like there _was_ something seriously wrong with her. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

She sat up, covering herself with a sheet despite the fact that she was alone, and found the clothing she’d worn yesterday laid neatly at the foot of the bed. It took a few minutes to motivate herself—the hot tub had helped last night, but she was still a little sore, and her eyes stung, and her throat was raw from drinking, and the thermostat must have been set to some obscenely low temperature, because there was definitely a chill in the room—but she eventually got up and dressed, grateful that she’d brought an extra set of clothing. Layering up made her feel comfortable and secure. 

She ignored the fact that the hooded sweatshirt she was now wearing, which she’d blindly thrown into her bag in her haste to leave the apartment, belonged to Ben. It was some old, ratty thing for a band called Silencer, and as good as hers now anyway. She wore it far more often than he did. So by this point it didn’t even smell like him anymore, and she wouldn’t have to think about him.

Except she was. _Shit_. 

“Ah, you’re up.” Phasma stood in the doorway. She didn’t look remotely hungover. Her skin had a nice morning glow and her eyes were bright—she truly was indestructible. “I thought I heard someone moving around in here, and I don’t expect any of the others to be rising any time soon.”

Rey ignored the implications of that. “What time is . . . ?” 

She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was nearly eight. Maybe she should just go back to sleep. She didn’t want to go home yet, even if the power and water were back. Now it was also the place where she and Ben had fought, worse than they ever had and for reasons that still unmoored her.

“Come have breakfast. We’ll raid Hux’s fridge and cabinets before he can wake up and try to stop us. He has all that good expensive stuff. Free-range eggs. Organic bacon. Probably some sort of cheese that’s a hundred bucks an ounce. Whatever. You can help me cook, and we’ll split the spoils.” 

Rey doubted that Hux would try to stop Phasma from helping herself to the contents of the cabinets, fridge, or any part of his house, but she only nodded silently and followed her downstairs to the kitchen. Frankly, the prospect of any food someone with this much money kept around sounded so appetizing she immediately forgot her inclination to retreat back into sleep.

Thirty minutes later, the two of them were seated at the breakfast nook, plates of bacon and eggs (and syrup-drenched waffles, and fresh fruit) half empty on the table between them. The tall window beside them looked out onto the backyard, which was still covered with a dusting of snow and frost from the days before. Rey was hit with a pang of envy. She hated when this happened—rarely, she’d find herself dwelling on her life, the things she hadn’t had. Food like this; breakfast nooks like this; views like this. She was just down on herself in general right now, she knew, and embarrassed over how she’d acted yesterday. But knowledge of the reason for her mood didn’t make it any easier to redirect her thoughts the way she usually could. She had a home, for now. Friends. People who cared about her. She had . . .

“Rey.”

Jolted, Rey tore her eyes from the window and looked to Phasma, who was sipping thoughtfully at a cup of some tea Rey had never heard of. It smelled like smoke and bitter herbs. 

“Yeah? Sorry. What?” Rey drank from her second mug of coffee, more out of gratitude than actual desire for it. It was probably far more expensive than the kind they had at home, and Phasma had used the French press, but something about it wasn’t right. 

Phasma set her cup down with a delicate clink. “I’m going to ask you a question.”

The fact that she was issuing a warning alarmed Rey a little. If she had something she wanted to ask, surely she would just have done it already? “Uh. Sure. Of course.” She ducked her face into her mug again, apprehensive for no good reason.

“What exactly happened with you and Ben yesterday morning?”

Rey’s mouth dropped open, either in surprise or with a half-formed answer she hadn’t processed yet. She shook her head and stabbed her eggs with a fork. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” The word was said with such incongruous gentleness that Rey almost laughed as Phasma waited, impassive. She didn’t sound angry, but she wasn’t going to accept Rey’s avoidance. 

Feeling more uncomfortable than she had a few moments ago, Rey squirmed in her seat. “What did I say to you last night? I don’t really remember.” Ugh, this was embarrassing. How had this happened?

“Nothing much. But you were very worried that Ben had abandoned us—you—and that he wouldn’t text or call you back.”

She stared into her mug again, refusing to meet Phasma’s eyes. Meekly, and knowing she was only making herself more pathetic, Rey asked, “Did he?” 

“No. So, what happened? I can infer some of it, but I want to hear it from you. Because I think there are some things you need to hear, too.”

At least Rey no longer felt the overwhelming urge to cry. That was, honestly, her only impression of last night after a point. The hot tub had been fun . . . and then it hadn’t. Finn and Rose had been flirting, and she could _swear_ something had been going on with Hux and Poe, and then Phasma had led her off and all she recalled was falling asleep sniffling and shaking with a lump in her throat. Enough of that. If Phasma wanted to know, fine. Rey could do her that favor; she had been kind to her last night.

“We . . . fought.” At the look Phasma gave her for that admission—a look that clearly screamed ‘ _obviously_ ’—Rey chuckled and shrugged. “Okay. After we filmed, we went out to a diner for some food. We were so hungry. And we talked about the scene. And then we moved on. It was _fine_. I thought it was fine . . .”

She told Phasma about what had happened the next morning. How Ben looked like he hadn’t slept at all, how he was suddenly acting so not like himself, how he wanted to cut the scene she and Phasma and Finn still needed to film, how he’d said it was to protect her friendship with Finn. How she’d gotten angry at him, because of course she had, he was being ridiculous, and accused him of being selfish and jealous, of _liking_ their scene together (what the hell had she meant by that? . . . of course he’d liked it—she’d liked it too), and stormed out and taken the car. Phasma nodded silently and drank her tea. 

Rey was drawing her story to a close and felt surprisingly lighter for having at least gotten it off her chest, even if she knew Phasma would likely have some opinions. This wasn’t just a venting session. “Anyway, I’m still angry at him. It was so stupid—I was good with filming the last scene, _he_ was good with it. He had been. He was being so . . . _unreasonable_. And acting like a . . . like a . . . jealous—like he was jealous.”

And so her tale ended as a graceless, near-nonsensical tirade. Rey abruptly stopped speaking, looking to Phasma for some relief. 

“Okay. And why do you think that is?”

“Why do I think what is?”

“You said you thought he was acting jealous.” Phasma put her empty teacup down and folded her hands in front of her on the table. Her calm was almost infuriating, though Rey had to admit Phasma was showing her far more patience than she deserved. “You said that exact word several times. And what I want to know is, why do you think he would be jealous, of all things? For what reason?”

Rey was silent. “I . . . I don’t know. Maybe I was just saying things. To hurt him. He couldn’t have been jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous about. We weren’t . . . it was just . . .” 

No, his reasons for wanting to cut the scene were absurd. Suddenly Ben was so worried about the state of her friendship with Finn? It was completely transparent. But acknowledging the flimsiness of his excuse meant acknowledging too that there was something else behind it. And as much as Rey would have liked to ignore it, Phasma had just pointed out that she may have at least some understanding of what that something else was.

“It was just?” Phasma echoed, head tilted, as she reached for the last strip of bacon. Rey was tempted to challenge her for it, if only to delay an answer, but suddenly she wasn’t feeling so well again. “What?”

“ _Sex_!” Rey snarled, frustrated and taken aback by her own ferocity. Her head was pounding worse than before, and her hands had balled into fists. It was all she could do to keep from banging one on the tabletop. “It. Was. _Just_. Sex.”

Phasma was unmoved and unconvinced. Perhaps she only meant to show a lack of judgment, but all it made Rey feel was patronized. And it made her sit there and think about what she’d just said. Because the moment those words left her mouth, she realized that she didn’t even believe them herself. It hadn’t been just sex. She’d had “just sex” before, and it had never felt the way being with Ben had. 

She could try reasoning again, as she had that night after they’d gotten home from Tosche Station stuffed with diner food and completely exhausted, when she’d been in bed with nothing left to distract her, that of course it had _seemed_ good to her—it had been so long since she’d fucked anyone, and he had simply been an attentive partner. But she’d had some truly regrettable, piss-poor sex after dry spells in the past, so it wasn’t that.

“Rey.”

She blinked rapidly, fighting tears that weren’t coming anyway. “I . . . “

The thing was, it had all been so _easy_ with him, and not because it was just sex and meant nothing. Rey knew what that sort of casualness felt like. That was what she was accustomed to; she’d done it before, and it was fun, and it had never been a problem. It had been different with Ben. It had felt right. And it had been easy, yes. It had been easy, because it had meant _a lot_. 

She’d felt it in each touch and word and look they'd exchanged in that bedroom; and she’d felt it after, in the the time they’d spent at the diner, as if it was just any other night together; and she had been avoiding thinking about it ever since. In retrospect, Rey thought maybe she had tried to articulate it to Ben at the diner, without even knowing she was doing so, and barely fallen short of saying it outright. She hadn’t been able to acknowledge then that what it all boiled down to was that he had made her feel loved. All that focus, that care, that gentleness, that unexpected sweetness. 

Loved. Like he always did. Like she always wanted to make him feel in return and had for a very long time. Longer than she’d let herself admit until now.

And she could not have said that to him, not there, or ever. That wasn’t how this worked, wasn’t how it was supposed to work. Rey had messed up; she’d let herself feel like some attachment existed between them, in that moment, and she knew it. Her insistence on carrying on with her scene the next day, with Finn and Phasma, now felt more like self-preservation; some way to convince herself that Ben was no different and it hadn’t meant anything after all. 

That was such a lie. And everyone knew. Maybe even _he_ knew, and that was why he wasn’t talking to her now. Rey felt like an idiot.

Phasma pressed her. “What if it had been the other way around? That he had another scene, too. Would you have cared?”

“ _Fuck_ this,” Rey spat. That question really rankled her. Ben _wouldn’t_ have done another scene; he had only agreed to do the porno at all because she’d practically begged him to. “I didn’t even care about _my_ scene anymore, with you and Finn. No offense. I’m sure it would’ve been good. I’d been looking forward to it. It was just that . . .” 

Rey breathed out hard and tried to gather her thoughts, but it was so hard right now. When she’d arrived the morning before, ready to film, she was just barely convincing herself she still wanted to do it. She just had to push through it, she’d told herself. That was what she always did—pushed through what needed to be done. This needed to be done; this would be great. She was just nervous, and angry. But that was, as Phasma had so delicately put it, bullshit. Ben was out of line, and so was she.

The knot in her stomach was only tightening. “He acted like he had a right to just _decide_ that, and it ticked me off. It freaked me out. I didn’t know where it was coming from. So I fought him on it.” 

It had already been difficult enough to grapple with why, in the aftermath of her scene with Ben, her excitement about her other scene had dwindled. What did that mean? And then he’d seemed to have the same problem, even if he’d tried to project the reason elsewhere. And what did _that_ mean? 

“But you do know where it was coming from.” Phasma must have seen it in her face. Rey barely nodded; yes, she knew. God, she knew. “I think you should give him a day or so to cool off. And yourself. You clearly need it too.” That was an understatement. “Stay with Rose a few days, maybe.”

“Yeah. That’s probably for the best. Rose wouldn’t mind it.” 

“Good. And then go home and talk to Ben. Reevaluate what needs to be done for the film. Between the two of you as well.”

“Yeah. Reevaluate.” 

They should have just talked about it that morning, instead of fighting. But they both had tempers, of course, and they’d overreacted, and now . . .

Rey felt emptied out and sapped of energy, but not sad anymore. She hadn’t known until now that the emotional weight of this over the last twenty-four hours had been taking so much out of her. Now there was a new weight, though: the potent realization that she had romantic feelings for Ben. And that those feelings were very possibly mutual. That the next time she talked to him, she was going to have to confront it.

Oh God. Her stomach lurched.

“I’m gonna—” 

Rey leapt up from the bench and stumbled across the linoleum to the sink. She made it just in time to lean over the side and retch. A moment later anything she’d had to drink or eat last night and that morning came right back up. All she could think was that Hux would be pissed she was puking in his kitchen sink. Was that worse than the lube on the counter? 

“Hm.” Phasma was right behind her. “I thought the food would have helped the hangover. Guess you had more to drink than I knew.”

Well, that wasn’t helpful at all, but Rey couldn’t snipe about it because evidently her stomach wasn’t done emptying itself. She would definitely be calling out of work today. Maybe for a few days.

+++

Ben felt sick as he crossed the threshold, even after sulking at home for a solid twenty-four hours after arguing with Rey and watching her disappear to shoot her scene with Phasma and Finn. She’d never come back, and he was still bitter about that.

His childhood home didn’t hold any _negative_ emotions, per se, but it also wasn’t filled with the happy-go-lucky memories his peers shared with their families. He’d gravitated towards the rest of the people at school who, like him, had emotionally detached parents. Though admittedly, Ben still knew very little about Phasma’s family.

Regardless, Ben was filled with trepidation as he walked into the old Philadelphia brownstone, relaxing slightly as he heard the lazy pattering of Chewie’s footsteps on the hardwood floors.

Chewie, the family dog that the Solos had owned for as long as Ben could remember. It was absurd how old this dog was. He was a mutt of some breed, fluffy and brown and temperamentally affectionate. He gave comfort only when it was warranted, but not always when someone was sad. Ben had learned the hard way that Chewie somehow could sense when he’d been out of line versus when he deserved comforting.

And now, for some reason, Chewie trotted up and nuzzled at Ben’s leg the same way he’d done when Ben was a child miserable from another day at school dealing with the hordes of imbeciles known as his classmates.

“Chewie, bud, I’m fine,” Ben said, kneeling down to pet the dog fully.

He scratched the top of Chewie’s head and glanced around. The place hadn’t changed a bit. His dad’s vintage photographs of cars still hung in disarray on the wall edge of the stairs, and family photos were littered above the railing leading up to the second level of the brownstone. The family room was to his right where he could hear his mother’s favorite record humming a tune from the old record player: “Cantina Band,” it was called. Old jazz. Ben sometimes missed the sound of it.

He could hear his father’s strong voice, could hear his Uncle Lando’s bark of laughter.

Lando.

Ben hoped that Lando had stayed true to his word and kept quiet about the loan and what it was for. He could trust the man, but only as far as he could throw him, which was less far as the days went on thanks to the weary rub of time.

The smell of brisket, made with an old family recipe, wafted in from the kitchen at the back of the house and suddenly Ben was overcome with the few warm memories he still retained. Hanukkah celebrations with Uncle Lando and Uncle Luke; no cousins to speak of, so he would often play with Chewie or fiddle around with some tools in the garage while his dad and Lando drank beers and swore too much.

It wasn’t a full, warm childhood, but it was something. A childhood he had to remind himself Rey had never been privileged enough to experience. Something he’d told himself he’d stop trying to push away as much, once he’d truly gotten to know Rey.

“Ben?”

Han’s voice was unmistakable, and Ben knew there was no delaying the inevitable. He walked into the living room where his dad and Lando sat on the couch, sipping beers and chatting. “Hey,” Ben said, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“My boy! How’s it going?” Lando asked.

He had a glint in his eyes—hilarity, mischief—but Ben could sense that his secret was still safe, that Lando would safeguard him from the pure humiliation that he’d feel should his parents ever find out he’d filmed a porno with his friends using a loan from his uncle. 

“Alright,” Ben shrugged. “I’m getting by.”

Lando smirked. Han gestured to the recliner next to the sofa and said, “Have a seat. I’ll grab you a beer.”

Ben sat down, glancing at Lando before settling into the worn cushions. He sat on the side of the room where Lando was, and when Han was safely across the threshold and out of earshot, Lando asked, “How’s the business venture going, kid?”

Heat and embarrassment flooded Ben’s face and ears, and he felt like he was lit up red as a flame at the mention of it. “It’s fine,” he lied.

“Uh huh,” Lando laughed, sitting back against the cushions. “Good. Good. You gotta have fun once in a while.”

Chewie trotted over again, planting his chin on Ben’s thigh as he sat down next to him. In a move of instinct, Ben rested his hand atop Chewie’s head and scratched as he said to Lando, “Yeah. Fun.”

“What’s in your head?” 

Ben was quiet. He was used to that question and the bluntness with which Lando asked it. He’d been able to sense throughout Ben’s entire life that Ben was an introverted kid, with lots of thoughts swirling around in his head. He’d understood Ben better than Han or Leia ever had.

“Nothing.” Ben shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Do I have to whip out the kid nicknames?” Lando warned.

Ben looked up at Lando for a moment, and then glanced to the doorway. In the kitchen, Han and Leia stood together near the stovetop. The beers were abandoned on the counter, as Leia had more urgently needed Han’s help chopping vegetables. “He’s busy. What’s going on, Starfighter?” Lando asked.

The blush on Ben’s face grew, if it were even possible. “I think the movie might have been a mistake,” Ben confessed. “Things with Rey are . . . weird.”

“Okay,” Lando nodded. “Makes sense. You guys have been friends forever.”

“Not until after high school,” Ben argued.

Lando looked bemused. “That’s practically forever at your age, kid.” He took a drink of his beer and asked, “So how bad are things, really?”

Frowning, Ben turned to look at his Uncle. Did he really want to know? 

“Come on, out with it,” Lando coaxed. He finished off his beer and set the empty bottle aside.

Ben sighed and looked down at Chewie. The calm, warm head on his thigh was doing wonders to get him to relax. “Until our friends paid our bills from back in September, we were living without heat, water, or electricity. We’re still barely managing to make rent. And I know dad can’t keep paying Rey the way he has been.”

Lando frowned deeper, the wrinkles on his face from years of hard decisions becoming clearer the more Ben got to look at him. “I see,” Lando replied. “I figured the loan was more of a gift anyway, but . . . it wasn’t what you needed.”

“It was more than you should have given me,” Ben argued. “I’m not some broke, entitled Millennial. I’m working.”

“I never doubted you for a second, kid,” Lando insisted, clapping Ben on the shoulder. 

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, as he looked at Ben with an earnest expression. “I think what you need to do is get out of this town. See what else is out there.”

Ben scoffed. “With what money?”

“Well, mine of course,” Lando shrugged. He chuckled at the fact that Ben hadn’t realized that’s where he was going with the conversation. “Look. Philly is . . . _Philly_. You grew up here. You know this place, you know the people. You just went to your ten-year reunion, right?” Ben nodded. “And people are making things of themselves. But the ones who did—they left, didn’t they?”

Again, Ben nodded, the possibilities beginning to swirl around in his head.

“Ben, I’ve got no kids. You’re my only nephew. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I’m at, but what good is it if there’s nobody to pass that along to?” Lando asked. “Come out to Portland with me. I’ve got a big place, you’d have plenty of room to do your own thing. Wouldn’t need to answer to me or anything. I live downtown, so you could go anywhere you wanted—do whatever you wanted.” He paused, to catch Ben’s full attention. “Focus on that writing you paid all that money to get a degree for.”

Admittedly, the thought of all that filled Ben with a new eagerness and vitality that he’d been lacking for . . . well, years.

The possibilities were endless, especially with some help from his uncle. 

But what would happen to Rey?

Rey was a survivor. She had friends, options. She knew how to take care of herself. And maybe if Ben left her to her own devices, she could finally move on. Maybe she hadn’t because she was so stuck on making sure she and Ben survived, together. But Ben wasn’t any of her responsibility. He shouldn’t be her burden. He’d cover the rest of his share for the apartment bills—they only had a few more months left on the lease anyway—and that could be that. Independence, for both of them.

Lando glanced through the dining room to the kitchen where Han was now handing off a cutting board full of vegetables to Leia. He’d be back soon. “Just think about it, Ben,” Lando said warmly. “I’m flying out in a couple of days, but we could ship a few boxes of your stuff out before I go, and I’ll grab you a plane ticket to PDX. Easy stuff.”

Ben nodded lamely. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Lando said with a sly smile. “Now go be a good Jewish boy and help your mother in the kitchen. She’s missed you.”

Rolling his eyes, Ben stood and did just that, wandering into the kitchen and putting his arm around his mother’s shoulders. She beamed, and he leaned into her side to hug her as she rinsed off something in the sink.

Immediately after the greeting, she put him to work drying off the good china to put on the table to celebrate Lando’s visit, and the beer that Han had fetched for Ben ended up in Lando’s hands. It was probably for the best; his mom still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of Ben drinking with the men, even if he’d turned the legal drinking age seven years ago and had been sneaking drinks for even longer.

Being away from home made coming back a little easier for Ben. He didn’t feel as out of place, because they actually had things to talk about. It was when he spent every day around them that it started to get weird, and thankfully he hadn’t done that since high school.

“So, Ben, we’ve decided to hold your father’s retirement party in March. We can count on seeing you there, right?” Leia asked. “You’re always saying how you need advance notice for things. Three months must be enough.”

She took a sip of her wine and then went back to cutting up the brisket on her plate. Ben took a bite of his potatoes and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“He’d better.” Han pointed across the table at Ben. “If not for me, then at _least_ for Rey.”

“They’re attached at the hip,” Leia explained, talking about Rey and Ben as though one half of their duo wasn’t right there at the table with them.

Ben ate another forkful of potatoes and asked, “So what are you doing with the shop, anyway?”

Han shrugged. “Well, I was thinking about offering it to Rey,” he said. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and all of a sudden care about stepping back into working on cars?”

“No,” Ben shook his head. The answer was easy.

“Ouch. Don’t dismiss it so quickly.” Han put his hand over his heart mockingly. “You had some good times, helping me at the shop when you were a kid.”

Ben snorted. “I handed you wrenches.”

“You were helpful,” Han corrected.

Leia rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright, that’s enough,” she interrupted, handing a plate of challah bread to Ben. It was still warm, having come out of the oven just before they sat down to eat. “I think Rey would love to have the shop. It’d be good for her. She loves it there, and the last thing we need to do is sell the place and put her at risk of a pay cut.”

Lando looked quickly to Ben; he was the only one at the table who fully knew the situation. “She’ll take it,” Han said confidently. “Rey loves the shop.”

“Can’t call it Solo Auto though, once she takes it over,” Lando laughed. He glanced at Ben. “She’s not a Solo.”

Leia brought her glass of wine to her lips and hummed. “For now.”

“ _Mom_.”

“Well,” Han interrupted. “Whatever you’re doing, Ben, keep doing it. I’ve never seen Rey so happy at work before. And she’s working _better_ if that’s even possible. So keep it up.”

Ben looked down at his plate. That happiness could be for many different reasons—but the working better, harder? That was their broke asses and the pile of bills they’d been neglecting, and it wasn’t a good thing. He sighed and took another bite of brisket. 

“Can we change the subject?” he begged.

“Sure,” Leia agreed, glancing up at Han strangely. “You’ve been looking great lately. Are you going to the gym? Working out? You seem thinner.”

“Tired, though, too,” Han interrupted.

“ _Han_.”

“It’s the holidays,” Ben said blankly. He kept his eyes focused on his plate of food. “I have to work a lot, and at really awful hours. That’s what it is.”

Leia smiled warmly at her son. “Well, it looks good on you. You’re borderline too thin though, now, so I’m sending the leftovers from tonight home with you.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I even baked an extra loaf of challah for you to take home to Rey. We know how much she loves it,” Leia interrupted. “Next time, you should bring her over with you. She’s like family to us, and you two don’t get enough home-cooked meals.”

“ _Mom_.”

“Alright, alright,” Lando interrupted. “I could use some more of that brisket, Leia. And hey, let’s stop embarrassing little Solo and embarrass big Solo instead. Ben, did I tell you about that time we went to Italy, to visit your mom when she studied abroad?”

Han and Leia both groaned.

After dinner, Ben was silent as he helped his mom clean up. Leia filled endless Tupperware containers with leftover food and wrapped up the challah bread for him to take home. Everything was piled into a worn-out reusable Whole Foods bag and propped up on the counter. “Ben, honey, eat up, and make sure Rey does too, okay?” Leia instructed, pushing the bag across the counter closer to her son.

“I will,” he nodded.

“Keep looking out for her,” Leia said. “And come home a little more often, would you? It’s so quiet around here.”

“You still have Chewie,” Ben argued.

Leia sighed. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t speak English so it’s not really the same thing,” she argued. “Why don’t you come for dinner in a few weeks and bring Rey next time?”

Ben nodded but didn’t say anything. Lando and Han wandered back in, having just gone out to the garage so Han could show off something or other. Ben had tuned out on Han’s random garage projects several years ago. “Hey, Ben, let me help you take this out to your car,” Lando offered, grabbing the massive bag of leftovers from the counter.

Leia held out her arms, and Ben leaned in to give his mother a hug goodbye. When he stepped away, Han was right there. He and Han nodded at each other, and then rather awkwardly, Ben ducked out. He never quite knew how to say goodbye to his parents after these weird visits with too much prying but plenty of good food. He was tired—he was ready to go home.

Outside, Lando looked up and down the street. “Where’s your car?” 

Ben snorted. “Rey took it,” he said. “She got mad at me, drove off somewhere. It’s hers anyway.”

Lando whistled. “You really fucked up then, didn’t you?” he asked.

When Ben didn’t respond, Lando took it as a yes. “Look, kid,” he said. “I’m not gonna stand here and beg you to make a move that you’re not ready for. But if you need a place to go to clear your mind and try to sort your shit out, Portland is open to you.” He chuckled. “Say the word and I’ll get you a ticket out there. We can mail your stuff sometime this week.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, holding it out to Ben.

There on the screen was the form for ordering a one-way ticket to Portland. Lando looked up at Ben and raised his eyebrow. Ben looked at the screen, and then up at his uncle. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he _did_ feel like he was holding Rey back.

Ben’s heart raced in his chest as he weighed his options.

\+ + +

Rey felt almost wistful as she crossed the threshold into her and Ben’s apartment. It had been several days since she’d been back in earnest. After the skinny-dipping in Hux’s hot tub, which had been less relaxing than Poe probably intended it to be, she had only returned briefly just a few days before to grab some changes of clothes.

She was a little mad at Ben for not trusting her, that much was true. But after her conversation with Phasma, Rey was more nervous than anything, going back to the apartment. Thinking about having to see Ben again, admit her feelings, deal with everything that had been building up for _years_ , apparently . . . Rey got overwhelmed just thinking about talking to him about all of it.

But she wasn’t avoiding him. She was hanging out with their other friends, and giving him space to breathe—just like Phasma suggested. Rey figured that the time they were spending together was where the conflict was coming from. Their complicated situation and the stress of trying to resolve it was taking its toll on them, which made tensions rise.

So after deciding with the All-Knowing Phasma that it was best to lie low for a few days, probably at Rose’s apartment, Rey hadn’t hesitated to pack her bags and do just that. She and Rose had eaten too much junk food and hadn’t showered for a disgustingly long stretch of time, but it had been fun. They got to gossip about boys, complain about work, and watch all eight Harry Potter movies. It had been _amazing_. 

But reality called, and now it was time to go home and face Ben—and what she felt for him.

As soon as she walked in, Rey could tell something was wrong. Everything looked to be where it belonged, and the power and water were still running as far as she could tell, but the apartment suddenly gave her an eerie, _off_ feeling.

“Ben?” Rey asked.

She didn’t think he’d had to work that day. After the hubbub of Black Friday shopping had died down, Ben hadn’t had to be at work quite so early in the day. Brow furrowed in confusion, she set her bag down by the kitchen island and closed the door behind her.

Radio silence.

She walked slowly further into the apartment. She could see the entire kitchen, dining, and living room areas—and he wasn’t there. There was no sign of him. His laptop was gone from the table, and there was no phone charger strung across the living room as he sometimes tended to do so he could sit in his favorite recliner.

Frowning, Rey wandered to her left, down the hallway. It was early; maybe he was still asleep. She stood outside his bedroom door for a moment, heart pounding in her chest. Something about this didn’t feel right. It terrified her. What if she’d screwed up more than she thought she had?

Rey noticed that his door was pushed almost all the way shut but hadn’t latched. He _must_ be in there. She knocked before pushing it open. Her stomach fell through to her feet as she took in the sight of an empty room.

No sheets on the mattress, no bookshelves lining the opposite wall. No television, no Xbox, no posters on the walls. _Empty_. A hand flew to Rey’s mouth as the situation fully hit her.

Their stupid fight over their stupid porno had led to Ben _packing up and leaving_.

She looked around frantically for a note or something, to indicate what was happening, why he’d left . . . what the _hell_ she was supposed to do with an apartment all to herself. She couldn’t exactly pay the bills on her own. Hell, she hadn’t even been able to pay the bills when he had been responsible for half.

And the movie. He’d written it, he’d directed it, he’d been in charge of the finances. Without him, it may as well not have happened at all, and she was back to square one—broke, drowning, and now, alone.

Her stomach sank through to the floor as she looked around for some sign. _Something_. 

Rey noticed the doors to his closet were propped open a little, and she spotted something inside.

There, in the top corner where it had always been, was the box of the old LARP costumes that he’d replaced with nicer, newer versions; specifically, the box of disused Kylo Ren costuming. The one she liked to try on when Ben wasn’t home. 

She let out a choked sob as she walked over to the closet. Hot, fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she blinked a few times as she pulled over the chair from his now-empty desk so she could climb, just as she always had, to retrieve the box. 

Inside, just as she’d left them the last time, were the very items she’d expected to find: tunic, pants, belt, gloves, cowl, mask. And resting on top of it all, in his loopy, Serious Writer handwriting, was a note.

_Rey —_

_These past few days, I’ve had a lot of time to think. We’ve been roommates for a long time. We know everything there is to know about each other. But that codependence is dangerous._

_You’re the strongest woman I know. Stronger than my mother, even. The things you’ve been handed in life have made you a fighter and a survivor, and you have so much potential to accomplish something great. But I realize now that by sticking around, I’m holding you back._

_I’m not easy to get along with, and I don’t spend my money well. We probably wouldn’t even have been in this money mess if it wasn’t for me. Enclosed in the envelope is my share of the rent and bills from now until the end of the lease. I’m also leaving you an official signed letter, so you all can finish and distribute the movie. Use the proceeds as your ticket to a better life._

_I’m sorry for all the hardship you’ve been through because of me. Now, I’m going to get out of your way, and you’re going to do amazing things._

_— Ben_

Sure enough, beneath the letter was an official-looking document with his signature, granting Rey and the others permission to distribute the movie, and beneath that was a fat envelope filled with a pile of cash. It had to be whatever was leftover from Lando’s over-generous gift. How else would Ben have had the money?

She hadn’t felt like he was holding her back. They went through these things together because they were a _team_ , not because they were _codependent_. She felt a flare of anger; she didn’t understand why he’d decided he had to duck out of her life just so she could be successful. She’d only been able to pick herself up and dust herself off after dropping out of college _because_ of him. They took care of each other. Supported each other. They didn’t hold each other back—or so she’d thought.

Then her chest ached again at the realization that Ben was truly gone. Heartbroken, Rey picked up the mask. It now held so many more memories, and she was prepared for none of them; their scene together, this whole _adventure_ together. _Ben_.

The room still smelled like him.

She studied the mask for a moment and then tenderly put it aside, where his pillows had been before he’d packed up and left. Next, she reached into the box for what had been underneath the mask: his cowl. It was still a bit ratty and torn, the woven fabric soft from years of wear. Rey brushed her thumb over it and brought it to her face; the cowl smelled like him, too.

Expertly, like she’d been doing it for years (and really, she had), Rey swung it over her head, resting it atop her hair, letting it drape over her shoulders and her arms. It was too big on her— _far_ too big—but it was a welcome source of comfort. 

Rey sniffled, her tears never stopping as she climbed onto his bare mattress and curled up into a ball.

She’d thought they could work through this. She didn’t think this fight was _that big_ of a deal. All she would have had to do was summon the courage to tell him how she felt—and she truly thought that would have fixed things. Or at least, it would have cleared some of the air between them. But now she couldn’t, because he’d made his decisions, and he was gone. 

Rey let out a sob and curled in closer on herself, clutching the loose fabric of the cowl in her hands as it collected her tears. Not only was he gone, but now Rey was in even more dire straits than she had been before—and she didn’t know what to do to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Music for crying into your brisket ..._
> 
>  
> 
>  **Chapter 12 // Brisket is Coming**  
>  Good Morning Joan - The Cardigans  
> Fuck the World - The Vines  
> There’s No Home for You Here - The White Stripes  
> Tore My Heart - Oona  
> Bessa - Tilly and the Wall  
> Don’t Confess - Tegan and Sara  
> Cantina Band - Calacas Jazz Band


	13. The Hipster is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months have passed since Ben's untimely departure, and life in Philadelphia has moved on in his absence. Back in town for his father's retirement party, Ben agrees to pay his friends Hux and Phasma a visit at the Supremacy. When old wounds are reopened, Ben finds that once again, he can't figure out what direction he needs to go next.
> 
> But that's okay: family get-togethers are Boba Fête always boost his mood. (Except, they don't.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH response to this has been so, so wonderful. We appreciate all who have followed along with us to this point, and all who binge just to find out we're not quite done yet.
> 
> Stay tuned <3 Two more chapters left after this! We're in the final stretch!
> 
> And for a look at what everyone was up to before Ben's return, check out some bonus ficlets:  
> [ **Feelings Are Coming**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434517) (Hux/Poe)  
> [ **The Best Friends Are Coming**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434634) (Finn/Rose)  
> [ **An Impartial Third Party Is Coming**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434673) (Ben/Korr Sella)

Being back in Philadelphia was strange for Ben. He’d left on less than pleasant terms, so he wasn’t exactly expecting anyone in the city to welcome him back with open arms—aside from his parents, of course.

He’d gotten a text from Phasma shortly after his flight landed, telling him to get to Hux’s place immediately. That had surprised Ben, because when he’d gone to Portland, he’d fallen off the map. But he’d texted Finn to see if Rey was going to be at his dad’s retirement party, so Ben assumed Phasma heard about his visit through the grapevine. She promised Rey wouldn’t be there, nor would anyone else he might not wish to see, so he had decided to go over and see what they wanted. He braced himself to be sufficiently scolded for what he’d done, but already knew what he’d say should they ask why he left, however cliche it might be: he’d needed to get out of the way and stop holding Rey back.

The Supremacy was as looming and ostentatious as ever. Ben parked his rental car outside Hux’s garage, and his boots smushed through the muddy March slush as he walked to the front door. Like always, he let himself in and kicked his shoes off by the door so he didn’t trail a mess through the house. For someone with a hired cleaning staff, Hux could be very impassioned about the cleanliness of his home.

There wasn’t a soul to be found on the main level, just an obnoxious orange and white cat meowing and rubbing up against his leg. Last he knew, the Hux family didn’t own a cat. Sufficiently confused now, he retreated to the basement, where he knew Hux had some video games and other top-of-the-line tech his dad got gratis thanks to partnerships he made through the Empire Group.

The annoying cat followed him down the stairs, and when Ben reached the bottom landing, he adjusted his beanie on his head. 

“Well if it isn’t Solo, back from the dead.”

He froze a few feet away from the staircase, brow furrowed in confusion. “Poe Dameron?”

“Holy shit, you are a _fucking hipster._ ”

He rolled his eyes as he walked closer, choosing to ignore Hux’s comment about his appearance. He wore cardigans now, sure, and his beanie was constantly atop his head, but he was still the same Ben Solo who left months ago.

“I have a _lot_ of questions.” Ben pointed to Poe. “The least of which being why _he’s_ here.”

Phasma sat on a chair near Hux’s massive computer desk, one leg crossed over the other and a glass of wine balanced in her hand. She kicked her loafer-clad foot absentmindedly with a coy smile on her face. “You missed a lot when you went ghost on us,” she replied.

“I had my reasons.”

Hux interjected in annoyance “Can we just get to the point?”

A loud meow called Ben’s attention to the cat still swirling around his stocking feet—she was getting cat hair all over his mismatched socks. She? He? Ben had no idea. 

“Millicent, leave him alone,” Poe said, standing up from where he’d been perched on the armrest of Hux’s computer chair.

“Millicent?” Ben mocked.

“Look, you’ve got no room to criticize,” Poe countered. He stooped down to pick up the cat, who growled in displeasure as she was lifted up. She. The name gave it away.

Ben eyed the cat warily, and then looked back to Hux. His computer setup was impressive, Ben would give him that. Two massive iMac screens sat atop the sleek glass desktop, a full sound system to the right, between the monitors and the wall. Hux’s chair was massive and cushioned in all the right places, and just like the rest of the house, it gave off an air of excess. 

“Will someone please tell me why I’m here, other than for you to mock my clothes?” he asked finally.

Phasma eyed him with cool indifference. “We weren’t sure you’d respond, to be honest.”

“But I did, and I’m here, so what did you need?”

Hux spun in his fancy computer chair and faced the screens. Both were filled with complicated-looking interfaces rolling clips of video footage that Ben recognized from . . . before—the porno. They were editing the porno. “I thought you guys would have started making money off of that already,” he said, leaning over Hux’s shoulder.

“Have a seat.” Hux gestured to the plain old computer chair next to him.

Poe muttered something to the cat about daddy giving away papa’s computer chair to people who didn’t deserve it, and Ben wished he could unhear it. That was a part of Hux and Poe’s personal life that he did _not_ need to hear about.

He rolled up the sleeves of his cardigan and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. He could see a few different clips from the shoot—some close-ups, some long shots—all of him and Rey. They were still in costume, thank god, because he wasn’t ready to revisit all of that. The parts of her he’d seen, and the parts of himself he’d let her see. 

“Oh _God_. You even got a _tattoo_?”

Ben glanced down at his forearm, where the tattooed silhouette of a girl with three buns cascading down the back of her head stood in profile beneath an umbrella. He avoided Hux’s eyes and pulled his sleeves back down. That wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, either. “Can we focus?” he snapped. “Now—why am I here?”

“We need to finish this story,” Phasma chimed in from her seat. She brought her glass to her lips again and sipped at the white wine. It was just dry enough—exactly the way she liked it.

“What story? The princess had her awakening. Then she escaped. The end,” Ben argued.

“Just watch,” Hux said, pressing play.

Soothing acoustic music flowed from the speakers as the scene unfolded. Ben watched the way he and Rey explored each other’s bodies, soft sounds escaping their mouths and mixing with the music in an obscenely beautiful way. Hux, Poe, and Phasma all looked away—Hux was distracted by Poe, who was leaning against his chair and letting the cat try to climb into his lap. 

“Millicent, stay there,” Hux said, trying to push the cat back to Poe’s arms.

She stubbornly scratched her way onto Hux’s lap as Ben found himself blushing furiously at the footage he’d been given. He watched the beautiful, sinful expressions crossing Rey’s face and the way her whole body trembled atop him, and his mind instantly flashed back to the events of that day. 

“I told you you needed music,” Poe chimed in, pointing to the screen. “That’s some masterful composition there, don’t you think? Captured the mood _perfectly._ ”

“Your ego doesn’t need anymore stroking,” Hux replied.

Phasma smirked and muttered into her glass, “He’d like some stroking elsewhere though, I bet.”

“ _Guys_ ,” Ben hissed.

They quieted as he watched the scene go on. All the close-ups Phasma shot of them—of their _faces_ —were not the things people usually looked for in pornos. The way Rey’s fingers carded through Ben’s hair, the way his lips grazed her neck, her jaw, her mouth. It was . . . _romantic_. The reminder twisted uncomfortably in Ben’s gut. When it finished, Hux reached out for the mouse and stopped the footage. 

“So, what was the point of showing me that? It’s fine, as I’m sure the rest of it is, too,” Ben said. “Yet again, you have my permission. I even gave Rey a letter saying I was fine with it. Distribute as you please.”

“It’s unfinished,” Hux repeated.

Ben was growing irritable with each passing second. He looked over at Hux, and then up at Poe, who sat perched on the arm of Hux’s computer chair again, and then turned to Phasma. She had a shit-eating grin on her face, like she knew something he didn’t. Whatever it was, Ben was almost certain he didn’t want to hear it.

“How is it unfinished?” Ben asked.

Phasma’s grin grew. “We never shot the rest. Any of the last pieces we needed to do. The scene with Finn and I . . . the princess’s ending . . .” She trailed off for dramatic effect. “After the scene between you and Rey, the cameras were never switched on again.”

Confusion filled Ben’s face. “Why not?”

“If you have to ask, you’re dumber than we all thought,” Poe said. He teetered on the arm of the chair, and grabbed the back of it for balance. It looked an awful lot like he was draping his arm around Hux’s shoulder. Even more confusing was that Hux was letting him.

“ _Because_ ,” Phasma interjected, “the ending no longer made sense. Why would Princess Winter just run away after _that_? Not to mention, Rey was too upset to shoot the threesome scene anyway, once you’d left. But that’s irrelevant now, I suppose.” Phasma sipped at her wine, letting Ben take in her words. “She was free to escape, sure, but after all that romance, she’d want her happily ever after with the Cuntslayer. We needed a new ending.”

“This is romantic _shit_ , Solo,” Hux spelled out for him. “There is no way the princess would ever just run away and not want to stick around for more of . . .” He waved his hand at the screen, unable to put words to the scene Ben and Rey had shot. “ _This._ ”

“The script needed a rewrite, first of all,” Phasma intoned. “And if I know you at all, I know you’d rather die than let someone alter your writing that much.” She paused. “Not to mention, we would have needed you there to film the new ending.”

Ben turned to look over his shoulder at Phasma. “You keep talking about a new ending. What new ending are you suggesting?”

“Princess Winter getting her happily ever after with the Cuntslayer, of course,” Phasma replied.

Ben looked blankly from Phasma, to Hux, and reluctantly to Poe. He shook his head. That wasn’t how the story was supposed to end. And it was too late now.

“Look. This movie was supposed to be your ticket out of debt. Yours _and Rey’s_ ,” Phasma said firmly. She lowered her leg and sat up straight in her chair. She had her full attention focused on him, and it was frightening. “But instead you disappeared to Portland with your uncle, leaving Rey to deal with your apartment and the bills all by herself.”

“I gave her my share of the rent and bills.”

“It didn’t make a difference,” Hux interjected. “She was still struggling to make _her_ share. So we gave her a loan so she could pay off the rest of the lease, she cancelled the utilities, and she moved into the office in Rose’s apartment.”

“The office that’s basically the size of a walk-in closet,” Poe added. 

Ben looked up at Poe and then back to Phasma. “You really hurt her. So you are going to swallow your pride, take off that ridiculous hat, and march your pathetic ass over to Rose’s apartment and give Rey a proper apology. And once you’ve sucked up to her enough, we can shoot the last scene, distribute this damn movie, and Rey can finally start earning royalties from it. Understood?”

“Fine.” Ben sighed. “I know I left her to deal with a lot, and I can’t take that back. But I needed to go.”

Hux focused an exasperated gaze on Ben and let him stew beneath it for a moment before he added his two cents. “It means nothing coming from me, I know, but not everyone has the privilege to just fuck off when things get complicated,” he said. He had the smallest glint of sympathy for Ben in his gaze. “What you did to Rey was especially low. Clearly, however disgustingly romantic I might find this footage to be, it’s proof clear as day that there’s something between the two of you. _Please_ fix it. I don’t care how.”

Ben stared at Hux. If even he could see something there, could sense something, it was a sign. But instead of facing it, like a mature adult would, he countered the argument. “Like there’s something between the two of you?” he asked, pointing his finger between Poe and Hux.

“Get your oblivious ass out of here, Solo,” Phasma said, pointing to the door. “And don’t come back until you’ve fixed things.”

“How do you know so much?” Ben asked her in irritation. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

Phasma didn’t reply. Instead, she merely gazed at him, amused, over the rim of her wine glass. 

Unable to find it in himself to be truly angry, Ben stood and walked to the door. The stupid cat hopped off Hux’s lap and bounded towards him, nearly tripping him as she wove between his legs as he tried to walk. “Damn cat!” Ben shouted, booting her away with his heel.

“Oh, and we missed you, darling Ben!” Phasma shouted at his retreating back with a smirk.

  
+++

Boba Fête restaurant was an eyesore. His whole life, Ben had loathed the place for its tacky bright colors and the gauche sombrero they made you wear on your birthday. But it had been the go-to for all family occasions during his childhood, until he finally learned how to balk just enough to get out of a birthday dinner at Boba Fête without losing his birthday celebration altogether.

He grimaced at the sound of the horrible appropriation of a melody, rewritten with “happy birthday” lyrics, being sung to the poor sucker in the front corner of the restaurant. She was grinning like a fool—Ben loathed people who lacked the dignity to recognize just how embarrassing the situation truly was.

An overeager hostess led him to the back of the restaurant where a small group of people sat around the table. He recognized his mother, of course, and noticed that she’d saved a spot for him between herself and Han. Across from Ben’s seat, at the other side of Han’s place at the head of the table, sat Lando, already nursing what looked to be a very strong drink, if the bottle of Corona tipped into it was any indication. 

There were people Ben recognized, ones who’d come to the family Fourth of July barbeques, and Uncle Luke was sitting down at the end talking to a guy who looked older than dirt that Ben only knew as “Kenobi.” On Leia’s other side was a woman who had been around forever and looked like Daenerys Targaryen in thirty years, but Ben had no idea how she actually fit into the group. Everyone was talking and laughing and drinking, and Ben was uncomfortable. He hated crowds.

Ben quickly learned that the beer-spiked margaritas were a house specialty, and that his father had already downed one before starting in on the one in front of him. In addition to his own, Lando had also chosen to get an entire flight of smaller margaritas in various colors; he nursed all of them in rotation. 

“Hi, honey,” Leia said, after coaxing Ben into the empty chair between her and Han. “Don’t mind them, they’re just trying to relive the good old days, or some crap like that.”

“Leia, I’ve told you, we used to drink much harder than this,” Lando said, a smooth smile on his face. He looked so sure of himself, so cocky all the time. “But there’s nothing wrong with celebrating Han’s retirement with a few too many drinks.”

“Where’s grandma and grandpa?” Ben wondered, looking around at the ragtag crew gathered for his father’s celebration.

“They were here earlier, but you know how they are. Tired by four o’clock,” Leia said. “They’re sorry they missed you. Grandma wants you to stop by before you go back to Portland.” 

Ben nodded. His grandparents were admittedly the ones he’d missed most when he left for Portland; they were getting older, too, so he knew he should visit before he ran out of chances. He was at least grateful that they’d stayed in Philly, rather than retiring somewhere tropical. His grandpa had a ridiculous aversion to sand that he’d never explained to them— _refused,_ actually—so the two would stay firmly situated in Pennsylvania until they died.

A waitress delivered a pink and yellow swirled blended margarita and placed it directly in front of Ben. “It’s strawberry and lemon. Remember when you used to only drink strawberry lemonade during summertimes? No water, just strawberry lemonade,” Leia reminisced.

“Mom . . .”

“Drink up, Ben,” Lando said, raising the yellow flight-sized margarita. He smirked a warning of sorts. Ben knew that sober, Lando would never share the secret of the funding he’d provided for the porno, but he didn’t have much experience with Lando after he’d had some drinks in him. An intoxicated Lando could be a loose-lipped Lando. It was probably best to stay on his good side.

“To Han.”

Ben raised his margarita and watched as his father nearly toppled over his Corona margarita as he lifted it to toast. He eyed his mother’s plain glass of water with abject envy. The glasses clinked and he indulged his family by taking a sip of the margarita. It wasn’t bad, but it was far too exuberant in appearance for Ben to totally be comfortable.

As he set his drink down, Ben noticed a knitted scarf and hat sitting on the corner of the table. The craftsmanship was unmistakable.

“Rey’s here?”

Leia was first to answer. “She stopped by, but couldn’t stay.”

“Oh,” replied Ben. “Did she say why?”

She shook her head. “No. I know she’s been bartending on the side but usually she just does that on weekdays. I don’t think it would have been tonight, unless there was an emergency at Kanata’s.”

Ben felt another pang in his chest—had Rey really taken on a second job? She’d talked about it, but never gone through with it because his father had given her full-time hours at the shop, and was always willing to pay her overtime, even if they didn’t technically have that kind of money in the budget. Unless . . .

“Is she still working at the shop?” Ben looked to his father, the concern obvious on his face. 

Han reached for a tortilla chip and dipped it in the bowl of queso. He waited until he was halfway through chomping down on it before replying, mouth full of food, “I offered to hand it over to her, actually.”

“Did she take it?”

He shrugged and swallowed. “She said she had to think about it,” he explained. “I haven’t heard anything about it from her lately, though. She’s been pretty busy.” Han quirked an eyebrow. “Everything okay with you two?”

Ben chose that moment to take a large gulp of his frozen margarita. He fought a grimace as the cold gave him an ice headache. “We’re fine. I just haven’t heard from her much since going to Portland.”

“Has it been useful?” Leia wondered.

Lando watched Ben across the table; he knew the things Ben had been up to in Portland—his tattoo, the date with the tattoo artist, his newfound love of longboarding. He was a far freer, more relaxed man than he’d been when he’d moved just a few short months ago. To Lando, Ben’s visit had achieved its purpose—it had afforded Ben a place to think and relax. But he was curious to know what Ben thought of it.

“I mean . . . yeah?” Ben shrugged. He allowed himself to be interrupted so he could put in for an order of steak fajitas, and then sipped at his margarita again—the damn thing was _too good_ —before he elaborated. “I like it out there. I like my jobs, and it’s just . . . different.”

“Well, we miss you,” Leia replied. “You’re coming back soon, right? I’ll bet Rey misses you, too.”

Once again, Ben took his time answering, opting for some of the chips and queso. He took a bite and answered, not unlike his father had earlier with a bit of food still in his mouth. “Maybe. I don’t know. Portland is really nice.”

“You can’t crash with Lando forever,” Han reminded him.

“Besides,” Leia added, “now that your dad’s retiring, we need to fix up the house so we can put it on the market. We could really use your help. Han’s hands don’t work the way they used to.”

Lando whistled, a catcall of sorts, and Han not-so-subtly kicked him in the shin. Ben’s face reddened and he tried not to think about the dirty implications Lando was getting at. “I can think about it,” he replied. “I’ve been really digging into work at Powell’s, though. They’ve got some connections to publishers . . . if I want to put my degree to use, I should meet the people they know.”

“You can meet people anywhere,” Lando argued smoothly. The sparkle in his eye told Ben that he knew exactly what he was doing here and was encouraging Ben’s parents in their pursuit of bringing him home. “You know me, you know the Hux family . . . if you’d just _ask_ , you could probably meet anyone in any industry that you wanted. Not to mention, your mom probably has her fair share of contacts. She could pull in a favor or two.”

“I want to do this on my own,” Ben replied stubbornly.

Leia sipped her water. “Just think about it, would you? Even just for a little while,” she suggested. “We just need your help fixing up the house.”

With a heavy sigh, he nodded. If he wanted his mother off his back, he needed to agree with her—even if he was fairly certain he was going to go back to Portland. What did Philly have for him, anyway? Hux and Phasma had their own lives, and he was never that close with Poe or Finn or even Rose, to begin with. And Rey . . . 

Well, Rey was her own entity entirely, and Ben still felt knots in his stomach whenever he thought about facing her, about talking to her and telling her how he felt. He’d heard his friends’ suggestions, of course, but hadn’t had time to process it all. His brain felt like mush since he’d landed back in Philadelphia.

“Be right back,” he said, standing from his place at the table.

He sidled up to the bar, avoiding the raucous tables and flagrant misappropriation of sombreros as he did so. When the bartender walked up to him, Ben held out some cash and ordered a straight tequila shot. If he was going to endure the rest of the evening, he’d need something stronger and far more direct than the margarita from his mother.

A quick lick of salt preceded the shot of tequila, and he chased it with an abrupt suck at a lime. The whole endeavor reminded him entirely too much of their stupid wrap party, so he shook the thought from his mind. “Whatever it is you’re trying to deal with, you can do it,” said the bartender warmly, like she’d seen this a million times before.

He left whatever the change was from his drink on the bar for the bartender. Her hollow encouragement was just enough to convince him to sit back down at the table with his family.

Lando’s flight of margaritas had been completely consumed, and his father had a fresh new beer margarita in front of him. Leia had shamelessly snagged her son’s strawberry-lemon margarita, as well, but Ben didn’t blame her for that. It was hard not to drink when Han and Lando decided to relive the good old days.

As he waited for his food, he ordered a Corona and listened as his parents and Lando harped on with stories from their past. Occasionally, Uncle Luke would add something to the mix, while Kenobi sat in the corner, chomping on chips and salsa, keeping to himself. Ben instantly felt a connection to the man.

“And I said, you know, back in the day when I opened the shop, that Greedo didn’t stand a chance. His shop wasn’t focused enough. He needed _focus_. Pick car repair _or_ car washing—not both. _Focus_.”

“Hey Dad,” Ben spoke boredly. “Say ‘focus’ one more time.”

Han looked to his son and chuckled. “I’m glad _you_ found your focus, Little Bandit.”

“Dad!”

“Now it’s time to come home.” 

Ben turned to Lando, who shrugged. “He has a point, Little Starfighter.” Lando winked.

Giving up on the men at the table, Ben looked at his mother pleadingly. She hooked his arm through his at the table and said, “Toughen up, Little Angel. We only get so many opportunities to reminisce with you.” 

“One day, you’ll miss this,” Han added.

With a heavy sigh, Ben bit his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. As much as he might hate to think about it, they had a point. He wasn’t sure how much time his parents or Lando had left. They acted young, but that meant nothing in the long run—especially considering his dad was close to thirteen years older than his mom. 

Besides, nobody here knew him, he could handle this kind of embarrassment. So long as nobody made him wear a sombrero, he was fairly certain he could handle it.

“Do you remember when you were little?” Lando began, and Ben instantly reached for his beer. No matter what story from his childhood Lando chose to tell, Ben knew he was far too sober to endure it. “You were obsessed with being naked.” There was a sparkle in his eye, like _that_ had been why he hadn’t been surprised Ben asked for money to make a porno. “As a kid, whenever I’d babysit, you’d just insist on taking off all your clothes and running around. Even your _diaper_.”

“That wasn’t just you,” Leia chimed in. “It was literally all the time.”

“Before he could walk, we could at least keep the diaper on him,” Han added. “But I can’t tell you how many times this kid cried and cried until I laid down on the couch, my own shirt off too, and put him on my chest and sang to him.”

Leia smiled fondly while Lando burst out laughing. “You’re a terrible singer!” Lando proclaimed.

“I know,” Han said, looking to Ben. “That was the most confusing part.”

Ben felt his face growing hotter. Most of him wanted this to stop but another part of him—a very small part—actually liked hearing them reminisce about him. How vain. _Typical millennial._

“I remember this one time, I came over to visit and you were taking a bath,” Lando regaled. “The minute you heard me walk in, you started to chant _‘Unca Wanwo! Unca Wanwo!’_ ” Ben’s face flushed deeper crimson as Lando used such a high-pitched, kiddish voice to imitate him.

“I didn’t talk like that,” Ben mumbled.

Han shot his son a sympathetic look. “You did, but your speech therapist helped you drop it by oh . . . third grade or so?”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Lando cut in. “This kid wrestles his way out of the bath—”

“And past _me_ —” Leia added.

Lando pointed at Leia, acknowledging her. “Yeah, and he just sprints like a madman out of the bathroom.” He chuckled and turned back to Ben. “You ran at me and expected me to pick you up, your teeny naked body half-covered in bubble bath and everything. So I did. There was an imprint of your junk on my tee shirt for half the afternoon thanks to that.”

Ben buried his face in his hands. That was a part of the story he’d never heard before. “Alright, alright, cut the kid some slack,” Han said, coming to his defense. “He was little, he didn’t know any better. Besides, we didn’t have air conditioning back then . . . could you really blame him for wanting to be naked all the time?”

“I guess that’s fair,” Leia conceded. “But even after you installed the air conditioning, nothing changed.”

In that moment, the waitress arrived with their food. Ben gazed hungrily at the spread they’d brought him—including the steak, still sizzling in a cast iron skillet. He was _starving._

The conversation turned back to Lando’s business pursuits in Portland, the very thing Ben had interrupted when he’d first arrived. He let them talk about it as he stuffed his face with food, remembering to wipe at the facial hair he’d grown over the last few months just in case he’d gotten sour cream in it or something. Fajitas were a messy thing to eat, after all.

By the time their dishes were being cleared away, both of his parents _and_ Lando were significantly more inebriated than they had been when he’d arrived. The rest of the dinner party had cleared out, and the server had delivered the bill.

Ben noticed Lando sliding his credit card to pay for everything, and his father clumsily dumping the retirement gifts into a few different gift bags. Leia held her cell phone just a few inches from her nose, and she gazed over the frames of her glasses as she tried to figure out an app. “How do I— _dammit_!” 

“Mom!” Ben admonished. He very rarely heard her curse.

“We used this to get out here, but Lando did it,” complained Leia. “I have no idea how to use it.”

“Uber?” Ben asked, glancing to her phone.

“Dumb name for an app if you ask me.”

He took his mother’s phone from her and input everything necessary to get his parents a ride home. “I can take the gifts with me, if you want. I’ll drop them off tomorrow on my way to the airport,” he offered. He could be a good kid sometimes, after all.

“Would you?” she asked hopefully. “He’d be just crushed if he lost those nice things Rey knitted for him. He really does care about her.”

“I know.” He nodded. He looked at his mom’s phone; the car would be there in five minutes.

“We all do,” she continued. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I hope you get it all sorted out. We miss her.”

Rey hadn’t even visited that much to begin with, but she’d made quite the impression on his parents. It made his chest ache to think about. He might not always get along with his parents, but at least he was past the angsty teenage years where he used to wish they’d be as miserable as he’d felt at times. Instead, now he wanted them to just . . . be happy. Content. Like he was trying to be. Like he was pretty sure he was managing in Portland.

One of the gifts fell off the table with a thud and caused Han and Lando to burst out laughing. “You’d better grab those gifts before he breaks them,” Leia said, letting the previous conversation go. 

Ben cleaned up the gifts and stuffed them neatly into two gift bags. Han and Lando laughed as Lando clearly over-tipped the wait staff and signed his name with an exuberant flourish. Leia called out that her Uber had arrived, and Lando pulled out his phone to call up his own.

“Look at this grown-up little starfighter!” Lando exclaimed as they walked out of the restaurant. He quieted as he added, “Taking care of his parents like the good Jewish boy he is.”

All eyes in the restaurant turned to look at Ben, whose face burned crimson. It was almost as bad as if someone had stuffed a sombrero on his head. Worse, arguably, because it had involved his embarrassing childhood nickname.

Once he got his parents and Lando in their Ubers, Ben stuffed his things in his rental car and sighed heavily. He needed to clear his head. Thank goodness his Airbnb wasn’t too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's playlist, for your own personal fête.
> 
> **13 // The Hipster is Coming**  
>  Curse of the I-5 Corridor - Neko Case  
> Changing - The Airborne Toxic Event  
> Make Me Feel - Janelle Monae  
> Ten Thousand Words - The Avett Brothers  
> 18 - One Direction  
> Africa - Weezer


	14. Umbrella is Coming (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has some decisions to make about the trajectory her life will take. Ben has some decisions to make about the trajectory his drive back to the Airbnb from Han's retirement party will take. It's finally time to face difficult truths and make things right—or is it too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you once again to Dot for being our beta through to the end, and to the other amazing people who also helped us out along the way, Mina and Tia. Your insights and advice have been so invaluable to this story and were instrumental in improving our general skills as writers. <3
> 
> And thanks to all the readers who have been following along from the beginning, or stumbling upon this story and binging it all in one go, or who are just now joining in. It has been so fun reading your comments and thoughts, and bouncing ideas back and forth. The experience of writing this story was a blast, but hearing back from you all has made it such a delight.

It was Saturday night, and Rey hated burpees. She had just finished one of the HIIT workouts Phasma had recommended, and she still had the music on her phone turned up as far as she could reasonably justify. Nothing like a dad rock playlist to deaden the sounds of whatever Rose and Finn were up to in the next room over. She’d _heard_ the laughing, followed by suspicious silence. She knew what came next. Sometimes Rey just left at times like this, but she was too keyed up to enjoy a night out. The week had been mentally exhausting, and then her plans to spend the evening unwinding at Han’s party had shifted. . . . Now all she wanted was to stay home to clear her head, get herself good and tired, and go to bed early.

Well, if everything else was out of her control for the time being, at least her arms were looking good. She’d been running again, and Phasma had lent her some new weights and turned her on to a few good YouTube fitness channels. It turned out she didn’t need a gym membership at all. She was a powerhouse. She was a beast. She was Rocky fucking Balboa. For the first time in a long time, she was starting to feel sharp and strong and healthy again. And looking it, too, if she did say so herself. 

Rey flexed an arm in her mirror, liked what she saw, and stuck her tongue out for good measure. She thought she really ought to go take a shower. The workout had taken barely twenty minutes, but even in that short time she had worked up a mighty sweat. Her muscles were screaming. So what was she dithering around for, making faces at herself in the mirror?

She glanced at her phone, facedown in a bowl on her bedside table to amplify the sound. She knew exactly what was eating at her. Well, there were two things, one of which she could do nothing about—namely, the fact that she had bailed early on Han’s retirement party after Finn texted her to let her know Ben was planning to make an appearance there. 

The other, though, demanded resolution: Was she going to accept Han’s offer of the shop? She had been putting the decision off for over a week. Such indecision was so unlike her. And it wasn’t fair to Han.

She _wanted_ to accept. When Han had asked her to stop by his office at the end of her shift last Thursday, she assumed he was going to tell her he hadn’t been able to get those parts she’d asked after for the Buick. That was fine; it had been a long shot. But instead, he’d asked her to sit down, and praised all the work she’d done for the last eight years, and praised _her_. And finally, when she was beet red with embarrassment and confusion, asked her if she would do him the honor of _taking over the shop when he retired_. 

She’d been floored. Shocked. She’d laughed, and very nearly cried, and when he’d asked her if that was a yes, had to reel herself in. It was a maybe. She needed to think. It was a lot to think about. 

Han had understood, but she knew he’d preferred she would have just accepted. Yet doing so would mean new responsibilities. And sure, she was skilled in the manual work, but what did Rey know about running a business? She’d taken on too much to handle before, and it had ended with her having to drop out of college. She’d done it again, and it had very likely ended her friendship with Ben, for good. The thought of making that mistake a third time was terrifying, even if she knew it could be a life-changing opportunity. Great risk. Great reward. She’d just been burnt by the risk part a few too many times.

Only over the last day or so had she begun to think that Han had been preparing her for this for years. She spent so much time at the shop, she’d never noticed that at some point, a lot of the duties he gave her weren’t strict mechanic’s work. She was keeping track of expenses, organizing the books, helping him with behind-the-scenes decisions that, to her knowledge, no one else was privy to. It had never stricken her as odd. She was just happy of the extra responsibilities—Han overpaid her, so it was a way of earning her keep.

Now she knew that this must always have been his plan. She just wished she’d caught on sooner and been a little less blindsided by the honor. She didn’t _feel_ ready, even if she probably was, even if Han would still be around to help her get her bearings. He wouldn’t just leave her adrift.

In the next room, Rose’s distinctive, explosive laughter sounded over even Freddie Mercury’s dulcet tones. Rey gritted her teeth, turned away from her own reflection, walked over to her laundry basket, and rummaged around for a change of clothes.

There were other things she had to consider, too, though only one really bothered her, because she knew it was silly. Taking the helm of the Solo family business meant that she would still be tied to Ben. They had yet to exchange so much as a text since their fight. She’d thought of messaging him, but hadn’t wanted to go through the heartbreak of not getting a response. And now that _that_ irrational fear had died, she was trying to get over the feeling that it was too late. It was one of those issues that kept compounding and continued to feel unmanageable. She hoped she could find the strength to reach out soon, but she wasn’t sure she knew how to begin.

She still had things she needed to say to him, and questions she needed answered. She hadn’t been about to do that at Han’s party and cause a scene, though. It could wait. If Ben was ready to talk to her, he could contact her himself, not tell Finn to tell her he was going to “be around,” as Finn had put it.

Ugh, that really ground her gears. Rey drew in a deep breath, held it for ten seconds, and expelled it until she had nothing left in her. What was she _doing_? It was time to make some decisions. She’d been sitting here too long, spinning her wheels, struggling to move forward for all that she told herself she’d been managing just fine. Well, no more. She shook out her sweaty ponytail, marched across her room, and grabbed her phone. 

It was Saturday night, and Rey was going to settle some things once and for all.

+++

Ben knew what he had to do; he just didn’t know if he had the strength to do it. Maybe he was being overly dramatic. He _owed_ Rey this apology. He owed it to her in person, not sent in a text or an e-mail, not even given over the phone, assuming she wouldn’t immediately reject a call from him. And while he could claim apologizing to her wasn’t one of the reasons he’d come back to Philly—he _did_ care that Han was retiring—he knew that was a lie. If there were no party for his father, Ben would likely have found an excuse eventually. He might even have just called it what it was.

None of that mattered, though. Intentions were moot. Actually coming here, to Rose’s apartment, right now, regardless of everyone's insistence that he do so, despite what he _thought_ he wanted, had been an impulsive decision. 

Ben had no plan. He had literally almost gotten in a car accident making an illegal U-turn when he decided abruptly _not_ to return to his Airbnb after leaving the party at Boba Fête and go to Rose’s after all. The door to her apartment, which he’d never considered particularly welcoming anyway, now appeared outright threatening. He braced himself and knocked. 

After thirty seconds, he was about to do it again when he heard the security chain unlatching and the sound of the lock turning. Rose opened the door and stared up at him. She looked a little rumpled, and if she was confused by his arrival, her expression only indicated displeasure.

“Oh. Ben.” She said it like she’d just been asked to name a food she particularly hated. Well, apparently he and Rose were back to disliking each other. He couldn’t blame her, but it wasn’t the thing he’d wanted to be faced with first. The weirdest part was that she didn’t seem to be fazed by his unannounced appearance at her door after over three months. “What do you want?”

He fought the instinct to snipe at her; she hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wouldn’t have helped. Instead, he kept it direct. “Is Rey here?”

Her face turned even more sour. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” 

Ben returned her stare, and they stood like that for what felt like far too long before she sighed. “You’ve really got some balls on you, Solo.”

Given her involvement in the movie and the likelihood that she, too, had seen the footage, Rose probably knew more about his balls than he wanted to acknowledge. He blinked and forced himself to stay on task.

“Great. Is Rey here or not?” 

Rose stepped out into the hall, crowding Ben backward despite the fact that he had a full foot of height over her and could easily have picked her up and moved her out of his way. She pulled the door most of the way shut behind her. 

“What do you want with her?” she hissed, like they might be overheard. 

His mouth opened to say something, and he found he didn’t want to. The answer was simple enough, but he didn’t think he was obligated to share it with Rose. She was here, though, she lived with Rey, she was Rey’s _friend_ , she was the gatekeeper, and she was slightly terrifying right now. So Ben tried. 

“I want to apologize to her. For everything.” When Rose didn’t say anything, he added, “That’s all. Then I’ll go.”

As if she hadn’t heard anything he just said, she narrowed her eyes at him, sized him up, and said, “Take that hat off. You’re indoors. You look like an asshole.”

Flummoxed by Rose’s non sequitur, Ben did as he was told and stuffed it into his jacket pocket before he had time to remember he didn’t have to appease her. But he kind of did, maybe, if he wanted to get in and see Rey. He wasn’t going to make an ass of himself by being petty. At least, he wasn’t at that point _yet_. He combed a hand through his hair and looked at her expectantly. “So, is she here?”

Rose shrugged, arms crossed.

“Oh, come on, Rose. I’m just trying to make this—” He growled and scrubbed his hands over his face a few times and half turned away, like he really might leave (maybe he would, he honestly had no idea what he was even doing here anymore, he was being an idiot, he should just leave well enough alone, he wanted to put his fist through a wall), then looked back to her. Quietly, insistently, he implored her. “Please.”

Her jaw tightened, and she still looked pissed, but she shook her head and threw her hands up. “Fine. But I can’t guarantee she’ll want to talk to you. _I_ barely want to talk to you after what you did, and I didn’t even like you that much to begin with.” Rose grabbed his wrist and held it with an iron grip, glaring at him seriously. “And if she tells you to go, you go. No excuses, no trying to convince her otherwise. This is _her_ home now. And you really hurt her.”

“I know.”

Rose stepped back and held the door open, then shut it behind them but left it unlocked—she probably wanted to make sure his inevitable exit would be as quick as possible. Her apartment looked exactly as he remembered it. People didn’t ordinarily changed their homes that much in the span of a few months, but if Rey really was living here now, Ben would have expected at least some evidence of her presence. Sewing or knitting on the coffee table, maybe, or a bag of her favorite chips sitting open next to the couch, or a few old issues of _Motor Trend_ under a pillow. It made him feel even more like an intruder. He _was_ an intruder.

“Rey!” Rose bellowed, making Ben start. Now that he was inside, she was ignoring him. “Can you come out here a minute?”

He thought it might have been better if Rose went back there and gave Rey some kind of warning. That had probably been his responsibility, though, before he decided to drop by without an invitation. He still had Rey’s number; he could have asked if he could stop by. But Rose wasn’t the sort to waste time. She wouldn’t want to be a middleman. She probably figured Rey would take one look at him and send him packing. 

“Yeah?” 

Rey’s voice echoed from somewhere in the back, the first time he'd heard it since she'd angrily proclaimed she was taking the car and stormed out of the apartment, and for a second Ben thought he couldn’t breathe. He unzipped his jacket and took a step back. When he heard the sound of footfalls coming down the hall, he knew they were hers. This was it. In a few minutes he’d either be walking out to his car, or in the middle of a long and uncomfortable talk with Rey. 

Which was worse?

“You have a guest,” Rose said to the hallway, gesturing at Ben, who was just out of sight. 

“What? Well I wish you would’ve said so before I came out here without— _Ben_?” 

Rey stopped dead just inside the living room. He immediately understood why she sounded irritated at Rose’s belated explanation. She was half undressed, still in the middle of doing up her jeans and wearing nothing else besides them but a plain black bra. Her hair was wet, like she’d just showered. Now Ben was even more annoyed with Rose for not making an effort to prepare Rey. But once again, that was his fault, not hers.

“Ben? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” That was a voice he had not been expecting to hear, but he recognized it right away—Finn. He was right behind Rey, even less clothed than she was, and he didn’t sound happy. On seeing Ben, he put a supportive hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t say you were coming _here_.”

“I . . .” Ben shook his head, utterly bewildered by what he was seeing, because what he was seeing looked a hell of a lot like he’d just interrupted Rey and Finn doing . . . something. Would’ve been nice of Phasma to mention this development; she clearly knew everyone’s business. She could’ve done him the courtesy of warning him that Rey was fucking Finn now, instead of letting him think he could ‘fix this’. He could not fix this. “I didn’t know if I was.”

“You should go,” Finn said. He frowned at Ben and took a few steps further into the room. Rey was still just staring, hands on her hips, mouth slightly ajar, brows knitted together. “Rose, what the hell were you thinking?”

“He said he wanted to talk to her,” Rose explained, disdain unabated. She nudged Ben. “So, talk. Or don’t. Rey, want him to go?”

Rey shook her head and stayed where she was. “No. He—what do you want? You’re—this is—”

“Don’t you have a shirt you can put on?” he asked, still thrown off by Rose and Finn’s hostile presence. He stared at the wall and felt sort of stupid for doing so considering he’d seen much, much more of Rey before this, then glanced back at her. “Or something?”

“No.” Rey pursed her lips and walked into the room, folding her arms and stopping a few feet from him. He had no idea what was going through her mind. Her face was perfectly unreadable. “You want to talk to me? Do it.”

He did want to talk to her, but not with an audience. He was so done with audiences. His eyes darted to Rose and Finn, who didn’t appear to be going anywhere. “Can they leave?”

“Rose lives here, and Finn has as much right to be here as you do, so that’s up to them.”

Ben looked at them again. They were both sitting on the couch, looking very much like they had no plans to go anywhere. All they needed was a bucket of popcorn and the picture would've been complete. Goddammit, fine. He’d just have to pretend they weren’t there.

“Ben.” His head snapped back to Rey. She hadn’t moved, but her face had changed. She looked sad and frustrated. Maybe a little curious, but that may have been wishful thinking in his part. She was looking right into his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I was in town,” he said. That was not how he’d wanted to start. “For my dad’s thing.”

“Yeah, I know. Finn told me. You have the wrong place, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“It’s not. I’m looking for you. To tell you . . .” He dropped his gaze from hers and chewed the inside of his cheek. Every time he tried to find the best words, he ended up unable to find _any_ words.

“Spit it out.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, seeking her eyes again. He said it a second time, more firmly. “I’m sorry, Rey. For abandoning you. For . . . for being part of the reason we were in such a shitty, godforsaken situation to begin with. For being such a fucking moron about your scene for the movie. I was . . . you were right. I was being a selfish, jealous asshole. And you didn’t deserve any of it, and I should have been able to handle it instead of flipping my shit and leaving at the first sign of an out.”

Rey listened with remarkable composure, but when he went quiet she looked slightly stunned. “So . . . you’re just here to apologize?”

“Yes. And to ask you to forgive me. For all of it, or any of it. But most of all for leaving you.” He’d found his words. The problem was, they weren’t necessarily the right ones, and now he couldn’t stop himself. “One day. If you ever think you can. To consider it.”

“Ben—”

“I just—I care about you. So much. And the last thing—”

“ _Ben_.”

“—I ever wanted to do was hurt you, but I did. I fucked up, horribly. So—”

“Ben! Shut up!” Rey smacked him in the arm, just like she used to when he was annoying her while she was driving or wouldn’t stop talking over a movie they were watching. “I forgive you.”

It was his turn to be stunned. “Like . . . right now?”

“Like last month.”

“Why?”

“You're right. You fucked up. A lot. Repeatedly. But I made a resolution a long time ago not to hold on to shit that isn’t doing me any good.” She rolled her eyes. “To just . . . let the past die. Move on. _You_ helped me do that, back then. Do you remember?”

He stared at her and nodded.

“And this mess between us, it was in the past. So. I was still pissed at you, but I care about you too. I told myself I would forgive you. It helped me, not hanging onto it.”

“Oh.” 

This was uncomfortable, but for none of the reasons Ben had expected. He still felt like he had left some things unsaid. He knew what they were, but then he remembered Rey was standing there half naked, and Finn was sitting over there in a similar state, so clearly he’d interrupted and needed to be on his way. He could keep the other things to himself—he’d done a stunningly good job of denying them for years. Now it was too late, and finally he could start to get over it. At least he had told her how sorry he was and knew that she bore him no ill will.

“Well. Good. Thank you.”

“Hey.” Rey reached out and rested her hand on his forearm to keep him where he was. “I’ve also had time to think. And I decided I need to apologize too.”

“You really don’t.”

“No, I do,” she insisted. “I should have talked to you that day we argued. The morning after our scene. I should have talked instead of overreacting and . . . arguing, and accusing you of all those things.”

Ben shrugged. “They were true, though. I was completely out of line.”

“You didn’t help. But . . . look, I still don’t want to make assumptions about your motives that day, but we could have talked it through, like we'd always done. I wouldn’t have acted that way, if I wasn’t so . . .” Her eyes narrowed as she searched for what to say. “. . . so confused. About how I felt after our scene. During it. Why it meant so much to me.”

“What do you mean?” He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. _It meant so much to her_? He could remember their talk at Tosche Station. She hadn't said anything like that then. Or had she?

“It _meant_ something to me. Being with you. I don't think I fully realized it that night, but . . . trying to face it was very scary. The way I felt, I mean. About you. About the other scene. It threw me, because I’d never—”

“Rey . . .”

“Wait, let me finish. I realized that I was being so _stupid_ , because I think—”

“I love you.” 

Oh, fuck. He’d only meant to say something that would get her to slow her rambling. He hadn’t really thought about _what_ he would say to accomplish that, but _I love you_ hadn’t been one of the options. And yet it slipped anyway.

“ _Yes_!” she exclaimed, squeezing his arm, apparently heedless of his confession. “That I’m in love with you! And then I didn’t know what to say to you, because I refused to believe you could possibly—” Rey stopped abruptly, let go of him, and took a step back. “Wait, what?”

“I . . .” He’d already said it once. He could say it again. “I love you.”

Rey had blanched, but her eyes were bright. He knew that look. “Not as a friend, right?”

He laughed nervously, and it actually felt kind of good, just to release some tension. “No. Well, yes, that. But in love, too. With you. For a while, I think.”

“Oh. God, I—”

“I get it. You and Finn are”—he gestured at her, and then back at Finn, and waved his hands—“doing your thing. That’s . . . yeah. I’m not planning to stick around and made this harder for you.”

Ben noticed suddenly that Rey was crying. But she was smiling, too, and shaking her head, and almost looked like she was trying not to laugh. She sniffled hard and wiped the tears off her cheeks with the heel of her hand, then smacked him in the arm for the second time in the last five minutes. “Stop talking, for just a second. Didn’t you hear what I said?”

He looked at her blankly. He had; it had just bowled right over him. He was still processing the fact that she had not only accepted his apology, but said she also forgave him. Those two things alone exceeded what he had expected. The idea that, on top of that, she returned his feelings defied probability.

“I said that I realized I loved you. _You_.”

“‘Loved’ as in past tense, but you don’t anymore?” He was only half kidding. This was too much to hope for.

“Ben, I swear to God . . .”

“Rey isn't sleeping with Finn!” Rose exclaimed. “Hello? I am.” Ben looked over his shoulder at her, still reeling from what Rey had just said and half in disbelief. Rose was lounging with Finn, by all accounts perfectly entertained. She was a little teary, too, though Finn just looked like he’d never seen such a ridiculous display of human fuckery in his whole life. Ben had almost forgotten they were there. “And actually, Finn, you and I have big, fun plans.”

Finn frowned. “We do?” He didn’t take his eyes off Rey and Ben.

“Yes, remember? Which is convenient because I think these two have some things they need to talk about.”

Finn continued to sit there in his boxers. He clearly had no plans to be doing anything on this quiet Saturday night. But realization crept across his face, even if he appeared reluctant to accept it. 

“Oh, yeah. The plans.” Finn raised an eyebrow. “The fun plans. Dinner. Uh . . .”

“That late-night movie marathon on Twelfth,” Rose added. “Drinks before that, too.”

Finn seemed to have decided he now approved. “Hours of drinks. Those plans. Right, Rey?”

Rey laughed and sniffled. “Yeah, I remember now.” She looked up at Ben sternly and tugged at his sleeve. “I’m gonna go finish getting dressed. _Don’t leave_.”

That was one of the last things he thought he would hear from her tonight. He shrugged his jacket off and tossed it onto the arm of the couch. “Want me to go make some coffee?” 

He just wanted to keep busy while he waited, and it was one task that required little thought. Rose and Finn had already retreated to the back to get ready for their not-at-all-made-up-on-the-spot date night. Rey nodded as she made her way toward the hall. “Yes please.”

Within fifteen minutes Rose and Finn were out the door with assurances that they would “not be back until really late, so don’t wait up,” and Ben found himself alone with Rey. Despite everything that had just transpired, he was almost afraid to say anything. Maybe she was too, because they sipped their coffee in silence for a while. He knew this wasn’t over, but wasn’t sure how to proceed. 

Rey finally put an end to the quiet, but only with a confusing command. “Come to my room.”

“Sure.” 

He didn’t know what difference it would make when they were alone together either way, but she sounded all business, and he wouldn’t argue. He followed her down the hall. 

Her room was tiny. He couldn’t tell if it really had been an office before, or something else. She seemed to have made the most of it though. She’d made it homey, and it reminded him of her old one. Her bed was pushed along the far wall, across from the single window. He recognized her bedside table and lamp from their old place, and some of the little bits of decoration she’d favored—bunches of dried flowers; a worn doll she’d had since childhood; her own sketches, hung on the walls. It was organized and efficient and minimalist, but very her. 

There was one more thing that stood out: the box he’d left in his closet. For her. She still had it, stuffed between her bed and table, under her sewing box. Seeing it made him feel a twinge—guilt, regret, embarrassment—as if anything he’d left behind could have made up for what he’d done to her. While he’d been fucking around on the other side of the country, living off paychecks from Powell’s and Barista, sleeping in a home that wasn't his, convincing himself he was over it, Rey had been here actually moving on with her life in this little room . . . God, he was an ass.

After he spent a few moments taking in the room, Ben joined Rey where she’d sat at the edge of the mattress.

“It’s nice,” he said. He meant it, but his voice sounded so flat he almost didn’t recognize it.

She took his hand in hers and turned to face him. “Ben.” 

“Rey?”

“What I said out there, about how I feel, all of it—I mean it.” She drew a breath and seemed to center herself. “But this was . . . what you did, it was so hurtful. And if I can’t tell you why, and if I can’t believe that you’ll never do something like that again—” Rey sighed raggedly and swallowed. “I’m not asking you to convince me of anything right here and now, but we need to talk.”

“I know that. We do. It’s . . . overdue.” He wondered if she’d been waiting to say this to him every day since she found he’d gone. He wondered why she hadn’t tried to contact him—but he hadn’t tried, either, had he? “I’m listening.”

Her face shifted as she considered how to begin. “You’ve . . . for so long, you’ve been someone I can always— _always_ —depend on. Someone who I trust. We were a team, you know? And when you left like that . . . it was that much worse. It broke my heart.” Ben felt a lump in his throat, and his neck grew warm. He remembered how much he used to hate hearing he had disappointed someone—this hurt even more. “And not just because you were my friend, or because I loved you, or because of the fact you’d gone. It was like you didn’t even seem to think it was worth trying to work through. Like your rent money and your go-ahead to finish that ridiculous movie were all you were worth to me. It wasn’t the Ben Solo I thought I knew, at all.” Rey released his hand; he thought hers had been shaking, but it was his. “Do you understand that?”

“Yes.”

“So what the _hell_ were you thinking?”

“I . . . wasn’t.” It was the flimsiest reason, it was trite, it was embarrassing, it excused nothing. But it was true. “I thought I was, but it was such a mistake. The biggest.”

“I wasn't thinking either, when I left the apartment and took the car that morning the way I did,” she said after a moment, lost in recollection. “But I came back after a few days. I didn't run, Ben.”

“But you didn’t tell me where you’d gone. Or why you didn’t come back that night. You didn’t even tell me you never filmed the rest of the movie. You didn't tell me anything. Not even after I left.”

“Neither did you.”

“Why didn’t you—I don’t know. Text me? Call?”

Rey frowned, shook her head, gave half a shrug. “I was afraid you wouldn’t answer. And of how that would feel. So I told myself it was easier not to find out. Too much time went by before I realized how idiotic that was.”

They both fell silent. Ben didn't want this to turn into an argument again and knew she didn’t either. It wasn't going to—he felt confident in that. They were trying to be honest, the way they’d always been able to until something had changed. And that wasn’t necessarily going to feel good. But time had passed. He could be objective. He could manage that defensive flare in his gut.

“It’s not the way you treat someone you love,” he told her. For as long as it had taken them both to say that, it was coming remarkably easily now. Nearly as easy as it was becoming to admit he’d been wrong. “The way I acted. So I understand if you have a hard time believing I’m sincere in that.”

“I don't. I _know_ how you felt. I felt it too. If I doubted it, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now. We just . . . neither of us handled it. At all.”

“That's a hell of an understatement.”

Rey pressed her lips together, her jaw set. “Our relationship still matters to me. There’s something special between us. I’ve felt that for a long time. Too much to let this be the end of it. But, but . . .”

“But we need to figure this out and stop avoiding it? Whatever happened that night. And before. And after.” He was ready. He wished it hadn’t taken him this long. _Years_. “Move forward.”

“Right. I want to try.” She smiled faintly and seemed to sense his concern. “Do you think it’s too late?”

“No. It isn't too late.”

Suddenly it didn’t feel like such a difficult thing to talk about. They both had grievances to air and truths to confess. Over an hour passed before it felt like they might have gotten through what each of them needed to say—faltering explanations punctuated by pauses and false starts until they found an uneasy flow, and then an easy one. Revisiting each mistake, acknowledging how they could have kept this all from getting so out of hand, how each decision or indecision had only dug the hole deeper, how they’d let their own fear and denial and pride prevent them from seeking resolution.

A lot of it sucked. It was difficult to hear what he’d put Rey through in her own blunt, unfiltered words, even if he knew it was his lot to face it. His letter had made her feel as if his value to her and all the years they'd spent supporting and looking out for each other had had been lost on him, and that her own feelings for him had been utterly misplaced. After her initial panic at his disappearance faded, she’d stayed in their apartment until the new year. But she hadn’t wanted to sell the movie, so she couldn’t afford to stay. Besides, trying to live in the place she’d spent almost ten years with him had quickly proved too painful. In the end, she’d packed up and gone to Rose, and started picking up late shifts at Kanata’s when she could. 

He tried to be as thorough and honest as she was. He told her how much it hurt him to realize that what had happened between them during their scene had meant nothing to her. He knew that was wrong now, but at the time, her reaction had really fucked with him. It _should_ have meant nothing, so he must have been the one with the problem. He’d been half out of his mind trying to figure out why it had affected him that much at all—projecting, prevaricating, looking to blame anyone but himself. Ben had felt guilty and betrayed and a whole mess of other things, but none of that excused accepting the first easy out while convincing himself it was for her benefit.

Parts of it weren’t so bad, though. Rey told him about everything she hadn’t been able to say at the diner, and Han’s offer to her only a week before, and how she was applying to schools in hopes of finishing her degree. She felt like she had goals again—she’d forgotten what that was like. As for Ben, Portland had been a mistake in most senses, but it had provided some perspective on things he should always have known. He was writing again and actually feeling good about it. He didn’t completely hate his jobs. But for all the appeal living in a new city held, the novelty wore off quickly and left him with the realization that nothing there had been as important to him as she was.

But by then he’d been convinced things were beyond repair. In the end it was his unplanned visit to the Supremacy that unsettled him just enough to bite the bullet and either make this right or humiliate himself trying.

“So you have been making the rounds today, haven’t you?” Rey sounded amused as she scooted her way back onto the bed to sit more comfortably. She was relaxing for the first time since they’d come face to face again. They both were.

“Yeah. Sort of wish I hadn’t, though.” Ben wasn’t sure he really wanted to bring it up when the conversation had moved past it already, but if he didn’t mention it now, he’d only want to later. It seemed best to just get it over with. “They made me watch the movie. Or whatever they edited together of our scene.”

“Oh.” 

“Have you seen it?”

She frowned, and her cheeks went slightly pink, but she didn’t seem very bothered. “No. I actually didn’t know they were doing anything with the footage. How was it?”

“Uh.” Well, that was a weird question. He had absolutely no idea how to answer it. “It was what you’d expect, I guess. Dameron edited in his goddamn music.” As an afterthought, he added, “ _You_ looked good.”

Rey chuckled and nudged him with her elbow. “Comforting. It’s still not done, though.”

“About that. Phasma thinks we should film a new scene,” he said, his distaste for the idea etched very clearly on his face. “You and me. A better ending. Finish it and sell it, like we planned. We—you could still use the money.” He didn’t mention the fact that he hoped Rey would veto the plan outright. 

“That’s . . . good. But no. If I ever have sex with you on camera again it’s going to be purely for our own private enjoyment.”

The directness of her answer made Ben laugh. “I, ah, don’t know if I ever want to have sex on camera again at all. But noted.”

“Hmm.” She shrugged and laid back on her pillows, arms folded beneath her head. “I have a better plan now anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m taking Han’s offer for the shop.”

“You’re—? He said you weren’t sure. I just saw him a few hours ago, and he said that—”

She propped a foot against his hip. “I wasn’t. And then I was. I left him a voicemail a little before you arrived. I’m only hoping he hasn’t changed his mind since he asked me.”

“He hasn’t. He won’t.” Nothing could be less likely than that. Though he doubted she’d hear back from Han until tomorrow, unless he suddenly proved to have Ben’s embarrassing drunk-texting habits. “Do you think you'll keep the name?”

He remembered, with some discomfort, the conversation at his parents’ place a few days before he had fled the city. Rey may not have been a Solo (now, yet, or ever), but he couldn't imagine her changing the place much under her stewardship.

“Oh, absolutely.” She said it instantly and, if he was reading her right, found the question almost insulting. “It's your dad’s baby. And he's done so much for me in the last ten years, for practically no reason.” Ben thought that was a criminal underestimation of how highly his parents thought of Rey, but he let her continue without interruption. “I want it to stay his in some way. Besides, what would I change it to? My name? Solo Auto and Motor sounds a lot better than— _whoa_.”

She was interrupted by the uncannily loud sound of her own stomach growling. It put a definitive end to the serious mood that was beginning to settle. She sat up with a crooked grin and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “You hungry?”

“ _You_ clearly are,” he said. “But I could eat again.”

“I thought so. Takadanobaba? You can’t tell me you didn’t miss it.” She was already pulling the number up and letting it dial. “We are still _just_ within the delivery radius.”

The idea was appealing. When they’d had slightly more money to spare, or had been laboring under the delusion that they did, they used to get takeout from the little Japanese kitchen not far from their place. It was worth the walk—the katsudon alone was to die for. While she ordered, Ben took her empty coffee cup and went out to the kitchen to refill it. When he returned Rey was looking very pleased with herself, though it was probably just because she was now anticipating a delicious meal. There were few things she seemed to enjoy more.

“It’ll be about thirty minutes,” she said as she leaned to plug her phone in to charge. “They’ll call when it’s here.”

“Nice.” How was it that he was perfectly fine two minutes ago, and now he was starving? He handed over her coffee cup and sat back down. 

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“Ah. Airbnb. Some apartment near Fishtown.”

“Oh, that’s not too far.” Rey sat beside him again and leaned, her shoulder just touching his, as she took a deep swig from her cup. “I missed your coffee.”

He looked at her askance. “This is just whatever was in your kitchen. You probably have it every day.” 

It _had_ been good, though. He probably shouldn’t have drank his own cup so fast as they’d talked, but he’d still been freaking out, which probably meant he should have laid off the caffeine altogether. 

“It’s different when you make it.” 

“Is that all you missed about me?” 

Ben knew it was a cheeky question, but she was being almost sweet, and he was still fighting to recover his balance after the last few hours had knocked him so far off kilter. In lieu of returning the banter, Rey put her cup down on the nightstand and embraced him, arms around his neck, face hidden. He hugged her back without hesitation, holding her as close as he could without squeezing too tight.

“I missed _you_ ,” she murmured, voice muffled by the front of his shirt.

“I missed you too.” He pressed his face into her hair. It was loose and still damp and sweet smelling, and before he could think she might not appreciate the gesture, he kissed her gently at the fine feathery strands of her hairline. “Just you.”

She pulled back a little, and for a second Ben thought he’d overstepped. They’d covered a lot of ground tonight, but they hadn’t talked yet about how they were going to handle anything new—everything between them going forward. It was a conversation for later that night. But then she just looked up at him, already so close that his nose brushed hers, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. 

Rey leaned in and kissed him like it was the first time they'd ever done it and she wasn't sure he would accept her. But he’d wanted to kiss her practically since he’d heard her voice echoing down the hall, and it was just as wonderful as he remembered. Better, actually, because he could just enjoy it without feeling there was an imperative to do anything. 

A lot could happen in thirty minutes, he knew, but he didn’t think they were going to take this very far tonight—particularly when she pulled away for a moment, half snickering to herself, and commented on how different it felt to kiss him when he had a beard, before she started in on him again. Minutes ticked by, though, and soon enough she was astride his lap, and not long after that she had him out of his sweater and then his T-shirt, and he had her out of hers.

Ben was just considering the wisdom of unhooking her bra—she was right here in his lap, it would be so easy, and he would make it worth her while—when she broke off, grabbed his arm, and yanked it toward her. “What is _this_?” 

“My arm.”

She scrunched her face at him and shifted back further, nearly toppling to the floor before he braced her with the arm she hadn’t decided to commandeer. “You got a tattoo?” She rubbed at it with her thumb—that did _not_ feel good. “Is this real?”

“Yeah, it is, and that hurts, so can you not?” It stung, but it also helped briefly with the itching. When Rey released him like he was on fire, he waved his hand. “It’s fine.”

Already she looked as if she was about to laugh. “You got a _tattoo_. God, you really did lose it for a while. What’s it of?” Rey tilted her head and rested a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she peered at his forearm. “Is it supposed to be so flaky?”

“It's a tattoo, not a croissant,” he said, feeling defensive. “But yes. It's just peeling. And itchy as fuck. It’s still pretty fresh.”

“ _You're_ still pretty fresh,” she mumbled with a distracted, loopy grin, pinching his side to make him squirm as she continued to stare at the image inked into his skin. She raised her eyebrows slowly as its significance occurred to her, then waggled them in a suggestive manner. “Hm. She’s got some nice buns. Looks familiar?”

Ben sighed, too aware that his face was getting warm. “It was a . . . moment of sentimentality.” 

“Oh, is that all it was?” 

Reluctantly, he qualified. “Three hours of sentimentality.” And a decision that had probably cost more than he should have been throwing away on frivolous, impulsive purchases, especially when he was starting to actually _have_ money. Too late, it occurred to him that this she might find it creepy rather than flattering. “Do you think it’s weird?”

“Well, it _is_ so _sentimental_.” 

Her expression confirmed that she found his response funny. She sat back on his lap and let him hold her there with both arms, her hands lightly gripping his sides. Her eyelashes fluttered in a poorly concealed roll of her eyes, but she was sincere when she said, “It’s sweet. And it's well done, actually. I like it.”

“So do I,” he said, satisfied she wasn't making it a thing. He looked behind him for a few seconds and spotted something he had noticed earlier but not wanted to ask about. But if they were already on the subject of sentimentality . . . “Is that my cowl?”

Her mouth fell open and then pursed. “No. It’s Kylo Ren’s cowl.”

He picked it up from where it had been half stuffed under a pillow and looked from it to her inquiringly. “You sleep with it? That's adorable.”

“No, I don't sleep with it,” she told him, snatching at it. “I use it as a scarf when I go out. Sometimes.”

He cocked his head and looked at her in a way that made it evident he wasn't sure he believed that.

“It's very warm!” In an attempt to deflect his scrutiny, she threw it on over her head with a practiced air. Okay, so she probably did just wear it for practical purposes. He supposed that was a more sensible coping mechanism than a tattoo. Having donned her new look, Rey held her arms out. “And it looks great on me.”

“It does. It goes especially well with your new biceps. Maybe you can call the shop ‘Swolo Auto and Motor’ now.”

Rey doubled over laughing, nearly tipping him back. 

“It goes pretty well with this, too,” he added, sliding a finger under the band of her bra and snapping it lightly against her skin. His hand grazed her back as it traveled upward to nestle under the fabric draped over her shoulders. “I wish I'd thought of that.”

“Maybe it’s time for Mister Ren to get another costume change,” she said into his neck, still shaking with laughter as she straightened up.

“Yeah, maybe. I think he'd favor something a little more demure, though.”

“Oh, for sure. Besides, you'd be bursting out of a bra this size.” Rey grinned wolfishly and gave his chest a thorough groping. “Tits-out probably isn't a good look for a knight.”

He snorted and grabbed her around the waist to take her with him as he laid back on the bed. Making out with her was fun—she had a soft, perfect, lovely mouth that he still needed to get better acquainted with, and she smelled like that cheap strawberry shampoo she’d been using for at least the last six years, and her hands were so gentle when she wasn't prodding or fondling him—but lying down with her was just as nice. They didn't have to perform. They didn't have to do anything beyond enjoy each other's presence. They could take things at their own pace; though hopefully after several years of obliviousness, that pace would accelerate considerably.

Ben leaned in to kiss her forehead, then settled on his back as she stretched out beside him with a hand wound through his. She was still wearing the cowl, which was a little funny and a little weird. Hot weird—he could remember the feeling of her taking it off him as he drank in the sight of her naked body for the first time—but weird. And really, he was just happy to be with her at all. Memories of that day were only that. He prefered to enjoy _this_ moment, and the way she was in it. She was happy; so was he. So they passed the time talking and kissing and touching, until Rey’s phone rang, announcing the arrival of their food and putting an end to the tranquility.

“Time to pig out,” Rey chirped, kissing him twice more before rolling out of bed.

She threw the cowl off and a shirt on, and left to answer the door. Ben was slower to respond. He pressed his face for a few moments into the warm spot she had left on the pillows, and when he got up, needed to locate his shirt, which had landed behind the bedside table when Rey blindly threw it across the room. By the time he made it out to the living room she had the food spread out on the coffee table, which she’d pushed closer to the couch the way they’d had it at their place. She also, predictably, had a mouthful of gyoza—two were already missing. 

They settled in and clicked on the television for good measure. Some channel was airing all of the Indiana Jones films, and they’d only missed the beginning of the first, so they left it on and dug in. The food from Takadanobaba was as good as he remembered—better, even, for having missed it—and as it and their energy dwindled, conversation slowed as well. Rey nudged Ben’s shoulder until he got the hint and laid down, and she nestled herself between him and the cushions. He’d fallen asleep on this couch before. He thought he might be doing it again soon.

“Hey, I’ve been talking through this entire movie and you haven’t told me to shut up once,” Ben said, letting his head loll to the side to take a look at the screen before returning his attention to her. “You feeling okay?”

“Very okay. And don’t take all the credit, I’ve been talking too.” 

“Yeah, about how you think Indy looks like my dad. Which he does not,” Ben insisted for the third time since they’d started eating. 

“Younger version of your dad. Hotter. Total babe.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t worry, it reflects well on you.” She closed her eyes and gave him a tired smile when he only groaned in response. “But it’s nice to hear your voice again.”

“You’ll get sick of it soon enough.”

“No.” Rey went quiet for a few seconds, then looked suddenly serious and cracked an eye open. “When do you fly back?”

Leave it to her to inject a heavy dose of reality into an otherwise almost idyllic situation. “Tomorrow night.”

“So soon.” Her brow furrowed in a tiny frown. “Miss your flight.”

He didn’t respond immediately, because he wasn’t sure how to.

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say,” she amended. “You can’t just pick up out there and leave.” 

Like he did here—she wasn’t saying it, but he knew she must be thinking it. He could tell her over and over that he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, and could make as many promises as he liked that he would never again leave her the way he did. Rey had forgiven him, and tonight they were together, but his actions would mean more than anything else when it came to healing the trust he’d shaken.

He couldn’t just say nothing, though. “I’ll come back. I need a few weeks to get everything settled with my jobs and all. Move out of Lando’s and find another place here.” The alternative was probably temporarily taking up with his parents, which he didn’t want to consider yet, especially if they were going to be in the process of moving out. “It won’t be long.”

“A few weeks,” she echoed, slipping an arm over him and snuggling even closer. “I can live with that.”

+++

“Shhh!” Rose tried to look serious as she admonished Finn for laughing too loudly in the hall outside her apartment door—it was almost 3 A.M., and her neighbor across the way liked to complain about _everything_ —but it was difficult.

They were both a little buzzed and more than a little giddy from their surprise date. The movie marathon had proved a mistake after a half-hour . . . Rose had never heard of New French Extremity before, and now she wished she had remained ignorant. After they’d snuck out, glad the price of admission had been only five bucks apiece, she and Finn bar-hopped a while until they found a place that was hosting a 90s themed dance night and spent the rest of their evening there, drinking and dancing and enjoying the press of strangers for a few hours.

Sure, she might regret it a little in the morning, but they were still young. They’d just sleep it off. She got the door open before Finn had the chance to find a new reason to start giggling, pulled him in behind her, and locked up. She was slightly less concerned with silence now that they were inside, though she also suspected that Rey would not be sleeping alone tonight, so she figured some respectful silence was due. She and Finn would head right back to bed.

Except when they passed through the darkened living room, the television was on and there was a mess of take-out containers on the coffee table. Rey and Ben were cuddled up on the couch, bathed in the glow of the TV and dead to the world. 

“Huh.” She wandered closer to survey the scene. They’d ordered Japanese from the looks of it. Lucky for her and Finn, they’d also left quite a bit over. _That_ was unlike Rey; she must have been distracted by other things. Rose picked up a piece of gyoza and took a bite. “Well this is a little gross, isn’t it?”

“Tastes good to me,” Finn mumbled through a mouthful of some sort of meat on a stick. “Cold, though.”

“No, I mean _this_ ,” Rose said, gesturing at the pair on the couch. “Very cute. But . . .”

“They’re kind of idiots?” Finn offered. “I say that with love.”

“Okay, but did we not heavily imply to them that we were leaving so they could talk it out and then spend the rest of the night having make-up sex or whatever?” Really, she loved Rey, but she did have a terrible, persistent habit of not accepting favors. This was taking it too far.

Finn grabbed the last two skewers and offered one to Rose, but she waved it away. “We definitely did.”

“I don’t think they caught on.” 

“Well, we can yell at them for it tomorrow, I guess. Or just pretend we didn’t even notice them.”

She supposed, if nothing else, she and Finn had had a great time out and some free food on their return. And whatever Rey and Ben had or had not gotten up to with the place to themselves, from the looks of it, things had gone well. Rey would not fall asleep entwined with someone she still had bad blood with. So Rose was happy for her. As for how Rose felt about Ben, well—she still sort of wanted to give him a kick in the nads just as a ‘don’t you dare pull anything like that again’ reminder, but she’d sleep on that one. Maybe she would be feeling more charitable in the morning.

Finn made a noise of resignation and shook his head. “They are so going to be married by this time next year.”

“What?” Rose looked at him, wide-eyed. He needed to sleep; he was starting to spout nonsense. Alarming, unrealistic nonsense. She loved a good romcom, but this was real life, and Rey was a practical person. “It took them like, eighty-four years to even figure out . . . whatever led to tonight. Which was a months-long shitshow. Remember?”

“Yeah, but look at them,” Finn insisted. “And they’re practically an old married couple already. I’m serious, I will put money down on it.”

Rose looked, but only because she was trying very hard to resist the siren call of the leftovers. Rey and Ben were sort of messily wrapped around each other, squashed into the cushions, legs askew; she was snoring lightly, mouth ajar, and his lips were pressed to her forehead. They both appeared to be obscenely content. On second thought, Rose could sort of see what Finn meant.

But she had to stand her ground. “Not a chance.”

“I will put money down on it,” Finn repeated, his confidence rather charming. He ruffled her hair affectionately, then let his hand drop to her shoulder. “C’mon. Bet me, Tico.”

“Nooooo.”

“I’m just going to have to take that to mean you secretly agree with me.” Finn gave her a cheery smile and walked off down the hall with a spring in his step. 

She watched him go, shaking her head and grabbing a blanket from the chair by the window. At the moment, she didn’t have the energy to clean up the mess of containers (and she shouldn’t have to—they could take care of that in the morning, thanks), but she would do them this little kindness. The living room tended to get chilly overnight. Rose spread the blanket over them and turned the TV off, then shuffled down the hall to get to bed herself. The longer she stayed awake, the longer she would have time to change her mind and take Finn up on his foolish wager after all.

+++

The sound of the front door clipping shut shook Rey out of the light sleep she’d been stubbornly clinging to. She’d recognized Finn’s footsteps as he puttered around the living room and kitchen for a few minutes before leaving, but she hadn’t wanted to get up. She was too comfortable as she was, which said more about her company than the couch. But barely a minute after the door closed, Ben shifted beside her and rubbed her back and asked her quietly if she was awake, and she figured at least she hadn’t been alone in her desire to maintain the illusion just a little longer.

They got up and gathered up their trash to dispose of in the kitchen (Rey could have sworn they’d had more left over than _this_ ), and in the time it took Ben to get the coffee on and Rey to set out some bowls and boxes of cereal, Rose joined them. Aside from some perfunctory “good mornings” all around, no one was quite awake enough yet for conversation, which Rey knew was a good thing when it came to Rose and Ben being in the room together. Of course, that could only last so long, and when they were all seated around the table, Rose was the first to speak up.

“You two have a nice G-rated time last night?”

Rey looked coolly across the table at Rose, who looked back just as coolly. She spooned some Frosted Mini-Wheats into her mouth, dribbling milk from her spoon onto the table, and chewed with deliberate slowness as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Rose said, eyes darting from Rey to Ben and back, “that Finn and I left you the place last night under certain assumptions about what you’d be doing, but when we got in it didn’t seem like you caught on.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Ben grumbled. 

Rey surmised that his sour expression had little to do with lack of coffee. Rose’s teasing nettled him, even if there was no malice behind it. And Ben wasn’t wrong. She could easily guess what sort of favor Rose thought she was doing them last night; she just didn’t think Rose fully understood the situation. Whatever the current state of her and Ben’s relationship—they'd decided last night they were going to try dating when he moved back—its development had been unconventional and convoluted. For now, they were being careful and trying to take the new stuff a day at a time.

Rey opted for diplomacy. “We appreciate the concern.” Ben shot her a look that suggested he did no such thing. That piqued her, so she shrugged and added, “If it makes you feel any better, we made out a lot, and I let Ben get to second base.”

Rose laughed as he nearly choked on his cereal. 

“Jesus, Rey.”

“Seriously?” She chewed hurriedly to swallow the heaping spoonful she’d just put in her mouth. “You’re bashful now?”

“No,” he said, eyes narrowing as he sulkily stirred what was left in his bowl

Rey did feel slightly guilty for drawing out the teasing. Most likely, he was completely sick of other people knowing their business, in the many forms that had taken thus far. She could commiserate. After the last few months of laying her financial, emotional, and physical affairs bare to everyone in her circle of friends, some privacy would be nice.

“We don’t want to rush anything,” Rey qualified to Rose, her voice firm. “And that’s all I’ll say on it.”

Rose drained her bowl of leftover milk and wiped her mouth on a napkin. “Good. I’m happy to hear it.” She stood up and brought her dish across to the sink, then returned to grab her jacket from the back of her chair. “I’m gonna do some grocery shopping before the stores get too busy. But no rush to leave, Ben.” She sounded unusually good-natured, at least when it came to how she typically addressed him. She was trying. Rey appreciated that. “It was nice to see you again. Hope you’ll be sticking around.”

“Thanks.” He was a little gruff—remarkably like Han, Rey realized—probably because he wasn’t sure Rose really meant it. It also reminded her that Han still hadn’t returned her call. It was early for it, she supposed. No use worrying right now when she had other things on her mind.

When Rose had gone, Rey watched Ben for a few moments as he poured himself more cereal before she asked, “So, what time’s your flight then?”

He looked confused by her question, but she saw the exact moment he understood. Had he forgotten his own plans? “Oh. It’s six-thirty.”

“Okay.” She nodded and pushed the last few squares of shredded wheat around in her bowl. “I can give you a ride to the airport, if you need it.”

“I have a rental,” Ben told her. Rey was disappointed, but unsurprised. He’d been getting around on his own since yesterday. Of course he had a plan to get where he needed to be. “But actually, I was thinking I could miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“The flight. Like you said last night.”

Rey couldn’t help feeling a flicker of hope and excitement, until she remembered that she had immediately regretted suggesting that to him. Would it have been wonderful to have him back here for good, right away? Yes. She wanted him to stay so badly. But . . . 

“No, you were right. You’ve got things you need to finish up out there. Properly this time.”

“I know that. I’m going to. I’d cancel this flight, though. Wait around a couple days. If you wanted to join me?”

She gaped at him, a spoonful of very mushy wheat halfway to her mouth. Ben scrambled to explain. “Just for two weeks. Tops. Lando’s has tons of space, so you could have your own room. Or not. Share mine. Whatever. I just mean, you could hang out, see the city and the mountains. I’d have work, and would be packing up, but other than that I’d be all yours.”

“I don’t know if I can just _go_ ,” Rey said, breaking out of the minor stupor his question had left her in.

Except, maybe she could. Han had given her very few conditions when he’d offered her the shop, but one he’d been most adamant about was that she take a week or two to herself before she began her new duties. He claimed it was because she would be working longer hours, making tougher decisions, trying to find her feet. All of that was true. But Rey also suspected an ulterior motive: she’d never taken vacation time for as long as she’d worked for him—she barely even took sick days

“Yeah, I guess not.” Ben nodded. “It was a long shot, but I couldn't not ask.” 

Rey thought of years of opportunities missed in favor of overtime and extra experience. Here was a new one, as if she needed a reason to take it beyond Han’s practical ultimatum. She took a deep breath and glanced at her phone where it rested beside her mug. “Actually, I think I could make it work after all. I’d want to run it by Han, but . . . he told me to take some time off before I take over anyway.”

“Really?” 

“Mm hm. Two weeks, you said?”

“Yeah. Ish.” 

“And you’re sure you don’t just want an extra pair of hands for packing?” 

Ben chuckled and shook his head, relaxing back into his chair. “It’d be a perk, I guess, but not really why I want you there. Or your hands.”

“Smooth, you.” Rey tried to look serious, but was unable to keep her smile from growing wider instead.

“Not what I meant. Not all I meant,” he admitted, nudging a hand across the tabletop until the tips of his fingers just touched hers. The volume of his voice dropped, like he was afraid of being overheard, like they weren't already the only people in the room. “Please come with me.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” Rey took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips to brush a kiss over his knuckles. “Take me with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go! In the mean time, check out this week's interim ficlet to see how Ben and Rey's trip to the west coast goes (once they get some much-needed alone time)—[ **The Cameras Are (Not) Coming**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607488).  
>   
> 
> This week's playlist brought to you by the deep discomfort of owning up to mistakes, Rey's amazing biceps, the best chicken yakitori this side of fictional Philly, and a dash of hope for the future, over on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1).
>
>> > **Chapter 14 // Umbrella is Coming (Again)**  
>  Forget - Marina and the Diamonds  
> Home - One Direction  
> I and Love and You - The Avett Brothers  
> Chinese - Lily Allen  
> Don't Delete the Kisses - Wolf Alice  
> Umbrella - Alex Goot  
> 


	15. BB-8 is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long nine months. As summer winds down in the midst of a Philadelphia heat wave, the gang convenes at Kanata's Bar to see Poe's band perform and unwind from busy lives. 
> 
> The next day, with a little help from Chewie, Ben and Rey make some plans of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, friends—the end! Writing and sharing this has been a such a massive joy. When we first tossed this idea around we honestly sort of treated it as a joke and weren't even sure it would go anywhere. Now nearly 150K words of chapters and ficlets later, we are so sad to see it go and so delighted that it has found an audience that has connected with the characters and plot as much as we ended up doing. It was the best kind of surprise, so thank you a million times for sharing the process with us. We hope this final chapter is a satisfying conclusion!
> 
> One more very special thank you to our betas throughout, Mina, Tia, and Dot! 
> 
> And finally, if you have been following the inter-chapter ficlets, please do check out **[Chapter 14.5, 'The Cameras Are (Not) Coming'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607488)** for a dash of Rey and Ben in Portland smut and feelings.

Ben had never seen Kanata’s quite as packed as it was that warm September evening. At least the place had air conditioning; a heat wave was sweeping through Philly—hopefully the last before fall settled in for real. Someone Ben didn’t recognize stood at the microphones on stage, the lights beaming unforgivingly down on her pale skin. She did the usual “test, one two!” as Poe fiddled with the soundboard, and Ben realized that he wasn’t actually all that angry about being there to support Poe.

 _Their_ friend Poe. Not just Rey’s. Her whole group of people was unavoidable now that they were together, but . . . he didn’t quite mind. Poe’s music was actually decent—a mix of what he’d been into in Portland and the heavier stuff from his youth—and Finn was an okay guy now that Ben had fully comprehended the type of relationship he had with Rey. There was also the whole idea of Poe and Hux _dating_.

That had been the strangest part for Ben to come to terms with. He could see how it worked, though. Hux was uptight and Poe was laid back in a way that made them perfect complements. 

Rey squeezed Ben’s hand to capture his attention, and he looked down at her, questioning. “I’m going to the bar, do you want anything?” she asked.

“My usual.”

She smiled and reluctantly released her grip on his hand before going to the bar. Ben took a spot across the table from Finn, who was nursing his own bottle of beer. 

“Hey,” Finn greeted.

“Hey.”

They both looked up at the stage. Rose was helping put together some of the sound equipment, unabashedly berating Poe for not taking better care of the stuff and for not labeling anything. “Honestly, it’s not that hard to come up with an easy set-up and take-down system. It’ll cut your prep time in _half_ ,” she said, expertly putting plugs into different boxes until the sound quality met Poe’s standards. “Then you can actually get away with being late to these things.”

Finn chuckled, watching was Poe just stood back, hands up and out of Rose’s way as she worked. “She’s tough,” Ben observed. 

He’d noticed that years ago, but thought it had been pure defensiveness for Rey. She most definitely _hadn’t_ been that kind to him when he’d dropped by unannounced to apologize to Rey, but he’d had that coming for several reasons. He hadn’t considered it was her usual demeanor.

“Only when she has to be,” Finn replied. “She’s really pretty soft when it comes down to it.” 

Ben glanced to him, an eyebrow raised as though he didn’t believe him. “She is!” insisted Finn. “She just has a very low tolerance for stupidity.”

“I can see that.”

Moments later, Rey set a beer down in front of Ben so he could take a drink, letting the alcohol soothe his frayed nerves. He still felt weird around Rey’s friends, though after their shared experience making a porno, and their subsequent forgiveness after he’d been a total dickhead, it had gotten decidedly less awkward.

He surveyed the bar, trying to figure out if anyone from their odd mismatched crew had come to Poe’s gig. He spotted Phasma in a booth across the room, sitting so she could watch the band. At her side and across from her were a total of three people, all of whom he had never seen before. Phasma laughed with them, chatted a bit, and drank her usual glass of wine. She’d dressed down that evening; it was the first time Ben had seen her in denim since they were in high school. Clearly, she could wear anything and make it look good.

Between the front-row table Rose and Finn had snagged for them and Phasma’s booth along the wall sat Hux, at the corner of the bar. He looked detached and disaffected, one leg crossed over the other. He was nursing a liquor—brandy, if Ben had to guess—but he’d showed up. With Hux, that was half the battle.

A brusque shout pulled Ben from his thoughts, and he looked over to the stage just in time to see that Rose had completely elbowed Poe out of the way. She was now working to set up the last of the sound system with the help of a girl from the band who had her hair in two buns atop her head.

Poe brushed it off and walked over to their table. Ben sat back, taking another swig of beer. Dameron could be . . . _a lot_. He’d need a drink to get through this, he was sure of it. 

“Hey guys!” Poe greeted brightly.

“Hi!” Rey beamed, gesturing to the empty chair at their table.

“Thanks for coming.” Poe swung the chair around and sat backwards on it, arms draped over the back. Even getting ready to go on and perform, he found a way to look cooler than everyone in the room. Ben was slightly annoyed by it.

Finn patted Poe’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

“So, what’s your band’s name again?” Ben asked, changing the subject from the cheesy pleasantries. “You told me, but I forgot.”

“You didn’t try to remember,” Rey countered, deadpan.

Poe grinned proudly. “BB-8.”

Ben looked to the stage, and then back at Poe. Just as deadpan as Rey had been earlier, he observed, “But there’s only five of you.”

“Sucks when the name of something isn’t what it seems, doesn’t it?” Poe winked.

He didn’t dignify that with a response and blocked out the laughter of Finn and Rey by taking another large gulp of beer. Poe glanced up behind them and muttered something about being right back as he wandered over to the bar, directly to Hux. For a brief moment, before Hux was blocked from his sight, Ben swore he saw the beginnings of a smile on his face. _Weird._ That wasn’t something he saw very often.

“Are you and Rose hanging out here all night?” Rey asked.

Finn nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t actually gotten to see the rest of the band in months. Not since I started hanging out more at Rose’s,” he explained.

“Wait, you’re friends with all of them?” Ben interrupted, gesturing to the stage.

“Yeah. That’s Snap on drums. Tallie’s got keyboard, Jessika’s got bass. Then obviously you have Connix on vocals and Poe on vocals and guitar.” Finn pointed to each person as he explained who they were. “We’ll stay until bar close, probably. I want to hang out with them, catch up on what I missed. Some of my football buddies are coming out in a bit, too.” 

Ben tuned out of the conversation just as Finn started to explain that a couple of his old friends from Notre Dame had been in town. They were going to show up at Kanata’s any minute, actually, to hang out and watch the show. Slip and Nines (Ben very stubbornly did _not_ want to know the story behind those nicknames) had joined Finn at their high school to teach a football camp for the local youth over the weekend.

And then there was the whole fact that Ben didn’t want to know why Rey cared so much about Finn’s plans. He had his own plans for the two of them, thank you very much. Not that she knew yet. But she would. _Soon._

“That sounds so fun!” she enthused.

Ben drank more beer.

Thankfully, the show got going after a few more moments, so Ben didn’t have to talk when Slip and Nines really did show up. They were big and bulky and strong, just like Finn, and Ben knew that he was too, but in a different way. He didn’t exude _athlete_ the same way they did—he was just _broad_ , which was different and he didn’t always like it.

Rey gave up her chair so they could have it, and opted to sit on Ben’s lap for the show, which sufficiently distracted him for a while. His fingers danced over her hip and tapped along to the beat at the juncture where her thigh met her waist, and Rey only squirmed a little bit, when the touch turned more to tickling than even Ben had intended. The band was good, though he still grumbled at the name BB-8 because for one thing, the number was a misnomer and for another thing, what the hell did “BB” even mean? 

The beer did nothing to calm him—he had _a lot_ going on in his head that evening—so he was already at a near breaking point before Slip and Nines noticed Phasma. When they did, and started ogling her musculature, strength, and overall talents on the football field, Ben was ready to make it all stop.

“Rey, get up.”

Mid-drink, Rey nearly choked on her beer at the abrupt nature by which Ben commanded her to move. “Why?” she sputtered.

Ben resisted the urge to look towards Finn and his football bros. “We should dance. I want to dance.”

Rey raised an eyebrow and the sheer surprise on her face told Ben he was going to have to try very hard not to raise any further suspicion. The last thing he needed was for her to start asking him what was going on in his head. “You. Want to _dance_?”

“Yes. I want to dance with you.”

The disbelief was clear in her expression, but at least she didn’t say no. More than anything, she was trying to read him, to figure out Ben’s angle. Nonetheless, she stood as the ballad continued on, Poe’s soothing voice singing something about loneliness and late nights, and Ben tried not to focus on the lyrics. Fucking Poe Dameron and his _relatable lyrics._

Rey stood, waiting expectantly on the little dance floor where a few other people swayed to the music. “Well?” she asked, holding out her arms. “Are we dancing, or not?”

He hesitated. She sounded very much like she _didn’t_ want to dance. “We don’t have to.”

She took his hand. “Well, don’t change your mind now,” she responded, pulling on his large hands to rest them at her waist. Satisfied with his positioning, Rey then draped her hands over his shoulders. “I was just surprised that you wanted to dance. It doesn’t really seem like your _thing_.”

Ben shrugged lamely and held Rey gently as Dameron and his band continued to sing. They weren’t the only couple on the dance floor, thank goodness, but there still weren’t many gathered in front of the stage. That meant people were watching them.

Rey kept her gaze trained upwards, focused on Ben. She could tell he had a lot happening in his head, that he was thinking about far more than she knew, though she assumed he was stressing out about her starting school. Because that was what Ben did. He stressed about things happening in her life, on her behalf, because he wanted things to go well this time around. Truthfully, so did she. And they would. Not only had she already learned what not to do, but in the time since her last attempt at college, she’d built herself a strong, infallible support system. This time, it would work.

They turned slowly on the dance floor, Ben glancing away every so often as he noticed Rey’s eyes on him. She wasn’t pulled from her reverie until he grimaced and hobbled a little. 

“You stepped on my foot.”

She looked down. He was standing with far more space between their bodies now, the toes of his boots awkwardly pointed outwards.

“Oh come on, it’s not like I could _hurt_ you,” she argued.

“Still!” he protested. “Be careful!”

She giggled. “This is what you’re getting into with me. I’m a terrible dancer.”

Shaking his head, Ben fought a laugh, but it was impossible. Rey was… something else. And dancing with her, albeit a bit painful, really wasn’t so bad.

Over at the bar, Hux sipped at his brandy and watched as Poe serenaded the couples who weren’t afraid to indulge in a little PDA. Most shocking was the addition of Ben and Rey to the dance floor, but apparently behind all of his awkward behavior, Ben could handle himself, relatively speaking. It was Rey who needed a dance lesson or two.

“Jealous much?”

Hux’s head whipped over rather quickly at the sound of Phasma’s voice. She chuckled, leaning against the bar to order a refill on her pinot grigio. 

“I’m not jealous,” he hissed irritably.

She slid onto the barstool next to him and shook her head. “Relax, Armitage. It’s okay to have feelings, you know.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response.

“You know, you and Poe actually make a smart match,” Phasma continued. “I saw you smiling at him earlier. He’s good for you.”

“I don’t _need_ anyone.”

“No,” she agreed. She sipped at her wine contentedly. “But it’s okay to _want_ someone.”

Hux rolled his eyes. 

“Stop fighting this,” she continued. “With me, with the others. We’re all your friends now, whether you like it or not. So now just loosen up and let yourself be with Poe around them.”

He sipped at his brandy. “It’s not that easy.”

“Only in your head.”

He sighed. “You know, it’s actually getting quite irritating, you having such a full understanding of everyone else’s business. Especially when most of us know nothing about you in return. Why is that?” he countered.

She looked smug. “What can I say? I drink, and I know things. It’s not my fault if none of the rest of you do the same.”

Hux stared blankly at her over the rim of his tumbler. “I will never look at _Game of Thrones_ the same way again, I’ll have you know.”

“Ah, that’s alright,” Phasma smiled, an almost wistful look in her eyes. “Meanwhile, I only regret not investing more in a full Brienne of Tarth costume. I daresay I look quite a bit like her, don’t you think?”

“Indeed.”

She let out a single bark of laughter before stifling it with a delicate taste of her wine. Hux didn’t even need to ask to know that she’d chosen the most dry white they had at the bar. It was just how familiar the two of them were with each other. 

Almost as if she could read his mind, she spoke again. “You know why I really came over here for a chat, don’t you?”

Phasma let him think it all over, let him take another sip of his drink and consider where they both needed to go from here. The implications of Hux having found a partner he wanted to keep around, a person he was serious about committing to, were clear. Even as much as commitment might make him uneasy, there was no denying that what he had with Poe Dameron was exactly that—an attachment and a commitment that meant other things had to end.

In an effort to forego the serious conversation she wanted to have, Hux turned to her, feigning amusement. “I would never presume to know what’s going on in your head, Phasma.”

She studied him for a moment, pleased that he knew her so well. They’d always been each other’s closest confidante and friend, ever since their childhood days. Both of them had been ahead of the curve, maturity-wise, so had flocked to one another when the rest of their classmates were too mundane or childlike to have much appeal. But she could also tell that he was deflecting because he wasn’t fully ready to face his feelings. However, she was, and she would not wait on anyone.

“The thing we had going . . . it has to end.”

Hux looked into Phasma’s bright blue eyes, at her earnest gaze, and nodded. He knew it, had felt as though they’d already called off their friends-with-benefits arrangement shortly after the porno had been filmed. However, ending things between them didn’t hurt. Not like he’d once thought it might. Now it just made sense. Plus, she’d made it perfectly clear that their friendship, as cliché as it may be, would last forever.

That didn’t stop the odd, wistful feeling from twisting in his chest anyway, the ache of knowing that what had started as a coping mechanism and morphed into something else and lasted more than four years was over. It also frightened him, what that meant for his relationship with Poe. It meant this was serious. He was really trying, making an _effort_ with the man. And if the people in the booth were any indication, Phasma was making great efforts of her own to move on with her life.

“Are they all with you?” Hux mused.

His eyes lingered on the booth where she had been sitting. 

She looked quite satisfied with herself as she responded, “I’m shopping around.”

He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. Of _course_ she was shopping around. Phasma wouldn’t settle for less than perfection. “Well, good for you,” he responded. “Best of luck.”

Phasma smirked. “Just be sure to invite me to the wedding, alright?” 

Before Hux could protest, she stood up from the barstool and returned to her booth.

Across the room, Rose sat perched on Finn’s lap, smiling as BB-8 finished singing their last song up on stage. Their set had been incredible, largely thanks to Rose’s work on the sound system. It also meant she had the chance to watch Ben and Rey in action, together on the dance floor. Even after the slow song ended, the two kept going. Ben moved a bit like a robot, but he was trying—mostly to avoid being stepped on, it would appear. And Rey was . . . well, she obviously had never taken a dance lesson in her life.

Already, Rose made a mental note to sign them up for dancing lessons before their wedding. They weren’t engaged, but she knew it was only a matter of time. And when they _did_ get married, she would prevent them from the embarrassment they didn’t even know they’d just endured out there on the dance floor.

“What are you thinking about?”

Finn’s voice was soft and gentle, and Rose couldn’t help but smile at just the sound of it. She turned to look at him, an arm draped around his shoulders. “Those two.”

His laugh was warm, and he seemed unsurprised. “Yeah, they’re something else.”

“I’m just really glad they sorted out their shit.”

Finn laughed harder at that; Rose’s bluntness was always amusing to him. “Shh, here they come,” he warned.

As BB-8 started to take down the stage, one of the bartenders switched on the Spotify playlist behind the bar. Overplayed classic rock started booming from the speakers, and Ben and Rey made their way back to the table. Finn’s friends had since disappeared, deciding to hop over to talk to Phasma after she’d finished her little conversation with Hux. They’d almost interrupted that conversation, but he’d warned them against it.

Truth be told, he was still a little frightened of Hux, even if Poe insisted he was all bark and no bite.

Ben sat down, and Rey joined him in the chair to his right, both a bit flushed. “You guys looked like you were having fun out there,” Rose commented.

“Yeah!” Rey smiled. “I was a little surprised he asked me, actually.”

“Wait, the dancing was _your_ idea?” asked Finn in surprise. Clearly he hadn’t been paying attention when Ben had asked.

Ben feigned offense. “I can’t believe you’d be shocked by that.”

Rey quickly stood up again. “I’m so thirsty. I’m going to get us more beers. Unless you want something else?”

“Beer is fine.”

“Great!” Unabashedly, she kissed him on the cheek before traipsing over to the bar eagerly. Having money again was really nice. They could have more than one drink on a night out and not have to stress about tomorrow’s meals.

“So . . .”

Ben looked up, gaze switching between Finn and Rose. “So?”

“How are things going?” Rose wondered.

He shrugged in response. “Fine. The new apartment’s nice. It’s better than the last one. Closer to campus, too. For Rey.”

“When does she start?” questioned Finn.

“Tomorrow,” he replied. “I think after this beer, we’re going to leave.”

“I’ve heard you two have gotten used to late nights already, though,” Rose said with a wink.

He quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, I guess?” Her amused expression wavered slightly. He’d clearly missed her very blatantly obvious innuendo. She shouldn’t be surprised; he’d been oblivious to his and Rey’s mutual attraction for years. “I’ve had some ideas for a novel lately.” 

Ben avoided their eyes as he shared personal information about himself. It was weird, trusting them. But as Rey had reminded him many times, they were all friends now. It was high time he started testing the waters on that, getting comfortable with the concept. 

“I got the idea out in Portland, but ever since moving back, I’ve really just been able to get the words out. It’s . . . I mean, the stuff I have written, even unedited, is really turning out to be something I’m proud of.”

Rose cooed, and Finn smiled. “That’s great, Ben.”

“What are you writing?” Rose wondered.

“It’s a secret,” replied Ben simply.

“What’s a secret?”

Rey swooped in at that very moment, handing off a beer to Ben as she took a large swig from her own. When she set the bottle down, she looked between the three of them with a massive grin on her face. _Finally_ , they were getting along.

“Ben’s novel,” Rose explained. “He was saying that it’s something he’s proud of, but he won’t tell us what it’s about.”

“Oh!” Rey glanced to Ben and then back to her friends. She’d caught glimpses of it, and he’d talked to her about snippets, but she didn’t know enough to formulate a full storyline from it. But she knew Ben wanted to keep it private until he was ready, so she feigned ignorance. “Yeah, he keeps me in the dark about it, too.” She felt his hand on her thigh under the table, a silent gesture of thanks. “But if he’s finally managing to get ideas on the page, it’s great, isn’t it?”

Finn and Rose agreed, quite enthusiastically.

“So, this . . .” Ben gestured between the two of them, not so subtly changing the subject as he did so. “It’s for real? Permanent?”

“For real, yes,” Finn nodded. “Official, is I think the word you were looking for.”

Ben bit his tongue; in his abrupt attempt to switch topics, all knowledge of words had apparently gone out the window and he’d been bested by _Finn_.

“No, the other bit is fair, too,” Rose said, coming to Ben’s defense. “Permanent? For now. We’re not settling down with rings and a house and two point four kids anytime soon, but . . . we’re together, and we’re happy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Ben pointed to Rose, but gave Finn a look of annoyance.

Rey’s fingers brushed his under the table, warning him to just relax. Finn had meant well. He took a drink of his beer, letting her steer the conversation to something unrelated to his or Rose and Finn’s personal life. Rather eagerly, with little coaxing from their friends, she launched into an enthusiastic description of her courses. Rose, naturally, had a lot of opinions given that she’d graduated from the very program Rey was returning to at Drexel. They’d met there, but Rey didn’t know all the instructors yet, so before long, the women were steering the conversation.

When he’d finally finished putting away the sound equipment, Poe thought about popping over to the table to thank everyone for coming. However, he noticed how animatedly Rose and Rey were talking, so he figured it was better not to interrupt. Instead of approaching, Poe made a beeline for the bar, going directly to the corner where Hux was sitting. 

There on the countertop was a bottle of Poe’s favorite beer, and Hux looking anywhere but at his face. “Thanks.” Poe smiled, letting his fingers drift gently over Hux’s thigh. It was the smallest of gestures, but it was what Hux was comfortable with in public. 

“You were decent. You earned it,” Hux said. His eyes sparkled with a hint of mirth; he’d thought more highly of the performance than that, but he did have to keep up appearances and whatnot.

Poe’s smile grew. “D’you want to go out back? Have a smoke?”

Hux nodded and stood. They were regulars at Kanata’s now—if Hux’s father ever knew that his son frequented a dive like this, he’d be _livid_ —but that came with certain perks, like leaving for the alleyway before they’d closed their tab with glasses still in hand. 

Out in the alleyway, they were relieved that the air had cooled down a little. The heat wave that week had been brutal, and Hux had pointedly avoided the outdoors, both because he despised the heat, and because he’d gotten sunburned in July at Rey’s stupid beach birthday party (it was all Poe’s fault) and was not about to allow that to happen again. Poe handed his beer to Hux, freeing up his hands so he could fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one, and then perched it between Hux’s lips before lighting another for himself.

Poe took his beer back from Hux, and together they sat down on the stairs outside the side door. “You did sound really good tonight, by the way,” Hux offered. 

It was clear that he meant it, and Poe knew it. He understood the way Hux would often mask compliments as thinly veiled insults whenever they were in public. It was high time Hux dropped his worry of seeming weak or sentimental around their friends; everyone knew that he was a big softy, they just didn’t say anything about it because it wasn’t a big deal. Hux would get there . . . eventually. Hopefully. Poe was a patient guy.

“Thanks,” he replied, bumping his knee against Hux’s. 

They sat there together in silence for a moment, no sounds around them but the traffic out on the street at the end of the alleyway. Hux took a long drag from his cigarette, and then set his glass of brandy aside. He scooted a little closer to Poe on the stair, their legs now pressed together from waist to calf. Poe was really warm from when he’d been performing; there was sweat beading on his brow, as well. “Tryin’ to warm me up?” Poe asked.

Hux shrugged. It wasn’t about heat, it was more about touch. Contact. Feeling close to someone. Where it had once been foreign, it was now familiar. Missed, if gone without for too long.

“What are you doing on October sixth?”

Curiously, Poe glanced over at Hux. It was an odd date to ask about. “Probably nothing, why?”

Hux never met his eyes, so Poe knew whatever was coming was going to be a very big deal. He set aside his own beer so he could rest his hand on Hux’s thigh. There was no pressure to speak, just companionable silence. It didn’t go unnoticed by Poe, the way Hux took several heavy drags from the cigarette and flicked away the ashes before he spoke again.

“I was wondering if you might want to join me. It’s . . .” Hux hesitated. He was nervous. He never got nervous, but now with Poe . . . things were different. “My mother. She passed fourteen years ago, that day. It’s horribly sentimental, but every year I bring new flowers for her.” Hux summoned all the courage he had so that he could look up into Poe’s eyes. “I’d like you to come with me. If . . . you want.”

For someone usually so calm and collected, Hux knew he sounded like a fool. But if anyone was going to hear him out without judgment, it was Poe. Though it was hard to comprehend, they’d formed a trust that Hux only shared with one other: Phasma. And she hadn’t gone with him to his mother’s grave since high school.

Poe’s hand slid further around Hux’s thigh, his thumb brushing tiny circles against the denim. Hux looked down, the eye contact becoming too intense. He hadn’t worn a suit; he’d dressed down in jeans and a sweater, like Poe had asked of him, making him feel all out of sorts already. In return, Poe hadn’t worn that leather jacket Hux seemed to despise, but now he found that he missed it. 

Hand half-hidden in the sleeve of his sweater, Hux brushed the backs of his fingers against Poe’s hand, where it rested on his leg. His hand was cool to the touch against Poe’s searing skin. 

“Of course,” Poe nodded, dipping his head to try to make eye contact with Hux again. “I’d be honored.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes it is.”

Hux looked up and pursed his lips, but he wasn’t angry. He looked . . . scared, almost. If fear were an expression Poe thought Hux capable of. No, this was _vulnerability_ ; he’d put himself out there, bared himself frighteningly wide open. “I want to be that person for you,” Poe whispered. He pressed his forehead to Hux’s, savoring the stillness of the moment. 

As they sat there, cigarettes burning down to the filters, forgotten in their hands, Hux released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. That had gone well. How he’d hoped it would go. Better, even. “You know, it’s gonna be hard to get rid of me now,” warned Poe.

Hux breathed out the softest of laughs. “I think . . .” he hesitated, choosing his words very carefully. “I think I’m alright with that.”

Gently, with a bright smile on his face, Poe dipped his head down to press his lips to Hux’s. Sure, they were an unlikely pair, but they worked. Hux put order and structure in Poe’s life, and Poe helped Hux loosen up and share his life with someone else. 

As the men kissed in the moonlit alleyway, cigarettes and drinks forgotten, Rey and Ben made their way down the sidewalk to their car. They didn’t look twice down the alleyway (Ben would thank himself for that, should he ever find out what he would have seen), opting instead to walk hand and hand together.

Ben clicked the button on the key fob in his pocket, lighting up their recently acquired 2010 Ford Fusion. It was beige, and certainly not brand new, but it was a far cry better than their rust bucket of a Buick. Rey had gotten a killer deal on it, given that the previous owner had opted to trade it in to Watto’s Car Lot just down the street rather than just get its transmission repaired. Watto had given them next to nothing as trade-in value, and Rey had bought it from him for dirt cheap, offering to handle the transmission replacement herself.

Now, the sand-colored, much newer car was all theirs. Rey had a whole list of upgrades she wanted to do to it when they had the money again—and Ben promised they would—but with her paying tuition, he was covering more of the rent. But anytime they came up with some spare cash in the next few months, that car would be back in Rey’s shop, getting fixed up because they _wanted_ it, not because they _needed_ it. 

They climbed into the car, Ben taking the driver’s seat. He’d had considerably less to drink than Rey, and she was also growing steadily more tired. As he adjusted the seat and the mirrors, something caught his eye.

“Where did you get those?”

Hanging from the rearview mirror were a very small pair of golden dice. Not those ridiculous, gaudy stuffed ones that most people had, but little ones, like someone had dipped actual dice in gold paint. They were connected by a gold chain and now hung from the rearview mirror.

“Oh, they were on the keys to the shop. Why?”

Very gently, almost reverently, Ben pulled the dice down and cupped them in his palm. “These were my favorite thing, when I was a kid,” he explained. Even his voice had a tenderness to it that Rey rarely heard. “Dad had them in his truck, but when I kept wanting to play with them he just took them down and let me have them. They kept me distracted when I was in the shop with him.”

“You kind of grew up there, didn’t you?”

She turned in her seat, knees pulled to her chest as she watched him get lost in his own memories. She smiled at the sight. 

“I think for a while he thought it would get me to want to be like him,” he said. “It didn’t work, but . . . yeah, I’d stay there a lot with him when my mom was working. For as long as I can remember. I’d play with these, and then I’d get bored and go read or something.”

“He really loves you. Your mum, too.”

Nodding, he said, “I know.”

“You know, you could just have those, if you wanted them.” She reached her hand out and rested it on his forearm. “They mean much more to you than they do to me.”

Shaking his head, he hung the dice back up over the rearview mirror. “My dad gave them to you.”

“If he’d known what they meant to you—”

“Rey, what’s mine is yours. It’s okay.” He looked at her earnestly and then took hold of her hand. “I want them here in the car. Where we can both see them.”

They sat for a moment in silence, content to just _be_. Rey watched the dice as they swung slower and slower until they settled. “Did he ever tell you how he got them?” she wondered.

“Yeah,” Ben nodded. He sounded as tired as she felt. “Those were the dice he and Lando rolled, to see who got to ask my mom out first.” 

Rey sat up a little straighter. “They bet on your mom?”

“No.” 

Ben put the keys in the ignition, still not used to how easily the engine turned over for them.

“It was only to see who could ask her out first. Whoever rolled higher got to try. Whoever rolled lower got to keep the dice, and then could ask her out if it didn’t go well for the winner.”

Quirking an eyebrow, she began, “But—”

Chuckling, he nodded. “Yep. Lando struck out with my mom, _and_ he lost his dice.”

“I mean, they’re _just_ dice.”

Ben easily maneuvered the car away from the curb. “Do you really think Lando would own _fake gold_?” he questioned.

Rey’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “Wait, you mean—?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Twenty-four karat gold.”

“Are you serious!?”

Unable to hide his laughter anymore, he shook his head. “No, I’m not. They’re just plain old dice from a board game, glued to a chain and painted gold. That’s part of the joke.”

She smacked him rather roughly on the shoulder, and he jumped, but it didn’t affect his driving. “Ben, you’re the worst!”

“Yeah, but you love me,” he responded playfully.

His heart raced when she didn’t respond right away—in fear, but also in curiosity. When he glanced over at a red light, he noticed the way she was curled up in her seat again, half-asleep. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. She leaned her head to the side, against the headrest, and watched him with a dreamy look in her eyes as she yawned. “I do.”

+++

The sooner this heat wave passed, the better. Rey had needed to walk only a few blocks between where she’d parked and the front door of the apartment building, but by the time she made it she was covered in a thin, sticky layer of sweat, like she had just spent the last ten minutes jogging. It probably hadn’t helped that she was lugging a messenger bag loaded with her laptop, several books, and the usual contents of her purse, or that the dense humidity had been making empty promises of rain all day. Even the fact that the sun had already mostly set didn't seem to make a difference. Eager for the solace of air conditioning and a shower, she trudged up the single flight of stairs and down the hall to the door of the apartment.

They'd moved in just a couple weeks ago, so there were still boxes and bags scattered throughout each room. It was a little bigger than their old place, the building a little more recent, the appliances and utilities a little nicer, the furniture largely the spoils of a few trips to IKEA or else inherited from Han and Leia’s recent pre-move downsizing. A living room, a combined kitchen-dining area, a bathroom, two bedrooms—she and Ben had talked about sharing a room and decided against, at least officially. They agreed that if they were going to live together again, it was a good idea to maintain some boundaries at the start.

It seemed practical. They’d been dating since April, but neither of them had ever begrudged having their own space, and it wasn’t exactly like anything about their relationship had followed a conventional course of events to begin with. Besides, more often than not they ended up together in one or the other’s bed anyway, and Rey liked the element of unpredictability that could entail.

Despite the obvious changes, living with Ben again after nearly a year of not doing so didn’t actually feel all that different from the decade that preceded it. They'd always taken care of each other and been the person the other saw first in the morning and came home to at the end of the day. This was merely a reestablishment of the proper balance of their lives—the way it should always have been. Even living half out of boxes, Rey felt happy and at peace. Ben was there, and his presence was what made it home.

She was still adjusting to the environment of the new space, though. It was all unfamiliar smells and sounds and quirks. That was changing, slowly. And right now, as she locked up behind her, it smelled _very_ familiar, and very delicious.

“Ben?” 

She dropped her bag next to the couch and wandered toward the kitchen, fanning herself with a discarded envelope from the coffee table. The air in the room was nice and cool, but it wasn't working fast enough on her tacky skin, and the nearer she drew to the kitchen the warmer it became. When she poked her head in, she found Ben at the stove, his back to her. The surface of the small wooden island in the center of the room was cluttered with several plates of food Rey couldn’t immediately identify because there was just so much of it.

Taking a moment to center herself as she conquered instinctual worries—they could afford a night of extravagance, there would be leftovers for tomorrow, the grocery budget was fine—she made her way further inside.

“Hey, princess.” One of his hands raised briefly in greeting as he continued working at whatever he was doing. 

Rey grinned, in spite of how disgusting she still felt. He’d started calling her that as a joke a few months ago, after a date during which they both had too much to drink and ended up fooling around until they fell asleep half undressed, but every so often she could tell he wasn’t just being ironic. She decided her shower could wait a few minutes more. Now she was mostly curious about what exactly was going on here.

She approached the island and surveyed the scene. It sort of looked like Ben had just emptied the fridge and cabinets, then set out whatever he’d made with what he found there: plates of eggs, burgers, bacon, an inexplicably solitary blueberry muffin, plus a slew of condiments and toppings and other necessities. On the counter, she spied an empty beer bottle, a quart of chocolate ice cream, a bowl with a whisk sticking out of it, and an open bag of chips.

Puzzled, Rey hopped up onto one of the barstools. “I thought your parents weren’t coming for dinner until they get back next weekend.”

“They’re not.” Ben turned from the stove with a bottle of beer in one hand and a stick of butter in the other. “I’m making pancakes. Do you want anything in them?” 

Just pancakes? Was he failing to notice the other two whole meals that were already sitting out in front of her?

“Um . . . do we have bananas?”

He glanced toward the top of the fridge. “Yes.”

As he retrieved one and began peeling and cutting it, Rey continued to stare at the food, unable to help the way her mouth was beginning to water. Good thing she’d come home hungry. “Are we having guests?”

“No.”

“Okay, so, what’s all the food for?” The way he was ignoring every opportunity to tell her what the hell was going on was frustrating. That afternoon, he’d texted to let her know he was making dinner, and she'd assumed it was just a way to celebrate her first day of classes. Maybe he was planning something like pasta and meatballs, she’d thought, some cheapish wine and store-bought cake. This was definitely not within the bounds of anything she had considered.

“I was in a Tosche Station kind of mood,” he said, as if that was the obvious explanation. “And you ask too many questions. Want a beer?”

“Uh, sure.” He grabbed a bottle from the counter, popped the cap off, and handed it over to her. She took a deep swig and leaned an elbow on the island, picking a piece of bacon out of the pile and crunching it down in one go. “Hey, can you maybe put the pancakes on hold and slow down a second? Call me crazy, but I’ve had a long day and I’m really confused about what’s going on here.”

“Dinner.”

“Ben.”

As if he’d only just noticed how much at a loss she was—and how flippant he was being—he shook his head, appeared to refocus, then circled around the island and sidled up beside her. “Sorry, I’m not . . .” He trailed off and nuzzled her cheek, kissing her there once and lingering with his chin on her shoulder. “Welcome home. How was class?”

 _Welcome home._ She loved hearing those words, particularly in his voice. Rey felt herself begin to relax as his hand drifted from her hair and down her back. She had some more of her drink and let out a long sigh. The mystery of the surprise smorgasbord remained, but she could come back to that.

“It was good. I thought it might feel wrong somehow, but it all sort of just came right back to me. Being a student,” she told him, helping herself to more bacon. Through a mouthful, she said, “I felt _old_ though. Everyone else was like, twenty, twenty-one maybe. Probably texting under their desks about some rager next weekend. I'm sitting there pushing thirty with a business to run full time.”

Ben snickered. “You're not pushing thirty.”

“I turned twenty-nine over a month ago. I’m pushing thirty.”

“Yeah, well, you have the body of a twenty-five year old, so don't worry about it too much.” As Rey laughed, he finished off his beer and sat on the stool beside hers, looking pleased. “I’m glad it went well.”

“Me too. It’s a start. Next step is to stop worrying it’s all going to blow up in my face like last time.”

“Don’t think that way. It won’t.” The way he said it, she believed him, even if convincing herself was still a battle. It would get easier to do so. He idly massaged her shoulder. “Hey. I hereby pledge to remind you of that. Incessantly. And to be available for late-night study sessions, despite my complete lack of expertise. I’m good at holding flashcards.”

She smiled faintly, flattered by his care but also already sour on the reminder that she now had homework and tests to think about again. Being a student, indeed. “Ugh, I'm not looking forward to that, but you're probably right.” 

“You’ll be done before you know it.”

“Even a few semesters worth of credits is a lot slower at the rate I'm taking it, though.”

“It’s the best approach for now,” he said, reaffirming what she’d been telling herself for months. Late was better than never. As Ben noisily ate yet another piece of bacon, she saw his gaze slide back toward the counter, where the bowl she now realized was full of pancake batter still sat and an empty pan was heating on the stovetop. He cleared his throat. “Can I please make you pancakes now? I think you'll find your outlook much improved once you eat them.”

Rey chuckled and gave him an imploring look. “What, you mean after my burger?” Those did look tempting, and juicy. “You still haven’t told me why you made so much food.”

“I figured you hadn’t had a good meal all day, between school and work.” She was conspicuously silent, so he asked, “Was I right?”

“But you made me breakfast this morning!” 

Ben was gradually making his way around the island and back to the stove, as if she wouldn’t notice if he moved slowly enough. “No, I made you coffee, and you ate dry toast.”

“I was too nervous to eat.”

“So now you can make up for it.” And with that, he was dropping an obscene amount of butter into the heated pan, where it sizzled and popped as he poured imprecise dollops of batter in with it. “We’re having milkshakes, too. Prepare yourself.”

Good God. She was either going to fall into some sort of food coma tonight, or wake up with the mother of all stomach aches. But in the moment it all smelled and sounded too good to resist. While he cooked, she started in on a burger, piling on a few slices of pickle and adding what remained of the bacon. She didn’t like the idea of anything going to waste. Yet even in the face of such decadence, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. When her hand compulsively drifted down to wag a small piece of hamburger back and forth over the floor, she realized what it was.

“Where’s Chewie?” They were watching him while Han and Leia spent the week away, but she’d been so distracted by trying to divine what Ben was doing in the kitchen that she hadn’t even noticed the dog’s absence.

“Oh. He’s . . . in my bedroom. Sleeping.” 

“He usually greets me at the door. I hadn’t even noticed he didn’t.”

“I took him for a walk,” Ben said, paying undue attention to the task of adding bananas to the half-cooked pancakes. “He’s a million years old. It probably wiped him out.”

“Hm.” 

Rey stole a look behind her, still finding it very odd that Chewie was nowhere to be found when she’d just gotten home _and_ had a mountain of food in front of her. Why did nothing tonight feel normal? She’d just gotten home from a day that started with her literally reliving her college years; Ben was manically cooking several dinners at once and giving a different reason for it every time she asked why; Chewie was apparently passed out in another room despite his usual eagerness to be in on any and all food-related action. It was like someone had taken what should have been an ordinary evening and just tipped it slightly left of center. 

“Oh, not to revisit the issue of who’s pushing thirty,” she said, desperate for something mundane to latch on to. “But . . . your birthday?”

Ben shuffled his feet and started flipping pancakes. “Is not for another month and a half, and we don’t need to talk about it tonight.”

“Just trying to figure out if you want to do anything special for it. It _is_ significant.”

He craned his neck to throw her a withering look over his shoulder. “Hah. I don’t—surprise.”

“We don’t have to go down the shore or anything, like we did for mine.” Rey loved the beach in autumn, but didn’t think Ben felt the same. “When I say special, I mean we could also just do something at home. The two of us. I had some ideas. You would like them.” She ran a fingernail over the tabletop. “Think it over?”

He made a sound that seemed to indicate he would but also hoped she would just forget about he had a birthday at all. The pancakes were ready a few minutes later and he finally settled down, joining her again at the island and piling food onto his own plate. Though he seemed calmer now than he had when she’d walked in, Rey could still feel a distinct tension radiating from him, the same way she could always tell when he had pent up energy but no immediate outlet for it. He’d been this way last night, too, she remembered. 

Maybe it hadn’t been about her classes after all. She knew he’d spent the morning checking out a location he had his eye on to lease for his book store. He’d had that plan in the works for a few months, ever since he’d come back to the city. He had even swallowed his pride enough to seek advice from Han and, more shocking still, accept Hux’s offer to help with the finances. But now Ben was in the throes of actually getting the practical aspects settled—like securing a physical location. Between that and his writing and his job, Rey knew he was likely feeling a strain similar to hers. Could that be what was bothering him? 

Hesitantly, she asked him how the site had looked that day, expecting him to say it had not gone well or hadn’t been what he needed. Instead, he perked up and actually looked happy as he told her it might be the one after all. He was going to talk budget with Hux before he made any decisions (and she could hear in his voice how much he just wanted to get it done regardless), but pending any truly prohibitive costs, he was hoping to sign a contract sometime next month. The news thrilled Rey. Unfortunately, it still didn’t explain the fact that, between snatches of conversation, Ben kept furtively looking to the kitchen door, or at the time on the oven, or at her as she gorged herself and they continued to talk. 

“This is what we ate the night we filmed our scene. All this . . . everything,” she said after a while, apropos of nothing, as she stuffed the last hunk of syrup-laden pancake into her mouth. “Something about it was funny to me, but that’s it, right?”

He nodded in slow acknowledgement. “I did say I was in a Tosche Station mood.”

“I thought you just meant in general, but—” Her eyes settled on the counter, where the ice cream had likely melted into a milkshake consistency without the aid of the blender, then darted back to the lonely muffin on the plate next to her arm. “Yep. You have a freakish memory.”

“Guess I do.”

“This was really good, Ben.” As for why _that_ menu, of all things, she still couldn't fathom. It was a weird way to be sentimental—that night had been great, and the morning after it distinctly less so—but delicious and appreciated. “Thank you. It’s exactly what I needed.”

“You want dessert? I won’t even make you share it with me.”

“Very chivalrous of you.” Rey patted her belly in what, in any other circumstance, may have seemed a gesture of exaggeration. But she was nearly full to bursting and was not confident she could handle a milkshake just yet. Or at all until tomorrow morning. “You may not believe this, but I need a break.”

“I’m shocked.”

“As you should be,” she said as she scooted off her barstool and found her feet. She hadn’t been this stuffed in weeks. Brushing his hair aside, she dipped her face to kiss the back of his neck before heading toward the living room. “I’m gonna go take a shower. When I get back, though, I think I can manage some shakeage, if you promise to drink half. Deal?”

“Deal.”

In the doorframe of the kitchen, she paused. “And don’t clean up. You did all the cooking and I can at least—”

She heard scratching and whining from the end of the hall, where the two bedrooms sat adjacent to each other. A moment later came the sound of one of the doors rattling, followed by a series of scuffles and the telltale creak of Ben’s bedroom door opening—his was the only one that did that—and finally the sound of claws clicking down the wooden hallway floor. Evidently, Chewie was done sleeping, if that was even what he’d been doing to begin with. He rounded his way into the kitchen looking far too pleased with himself, tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail wagging as he looked up at Rey and sat at her feet to be lavished with whatever affection she felt like providing at that moment. 

“There you are!” she cooed, falling right into his trap. It was very difficult to just settle for a quick scratch on the head. She crouched there in the doorway and began giving him a thorough rub down, paying special attention to the thick ruff of fur around his neck. “I heard you had a very tiring day, so I’ll forgive you not saying hello to me earlier, you beautiful old geezer.”

In Rey’s thrall just as much as she was in his, Chewie sat, then laid down and rolled onto his back in a remarkably smooth series of motions for a dog his age, tail thudding on the floor. He didn’t seem very worn out at all. 

“Chewie, come over here,” Ben said, patting his thigh a couple times to try to get the dog’s attention. It didn’t work very well, though Chewie did spare him a glance as if to say that if Ben wanted to see him, he could damn well come over to the doorway and join them on the floor. “Leave her alone, she has stuff to do.”

Rey scoffed, half at the implication that she had important business to attend to, and half because Ben sounded disproportionately agitated by the arrival of their canine guest. 

“Stuff to do? It’s just a shower, I can spare some time for belly rubs.” She drew her face nearer to Chewie’s and gushed, “Can’t I? Yes I can! I have all the time in the world for belly rubs. He’s just jealous because I don’t give him belly rubs, do I?” Chewie responded with a few zealous swipes of his tongue to her chin and nose.

Grinning, she looked up at Ben, who was still watching the proceedings with the stricken expression of someone witnessing a disaster unfold. That was a little odd, so she pulled a teasing pout at him, then turned back to Chewie to take his face in her hands and scritch him vigorously, working her way down his neck again. Her hand brushed his collar, jingling his tags—the motion drew her eye, though, to something she hadn’t noticed before. In all the jostling, something shiny caught the light, and it definitely wasn’t a dull metallic dog tag. 

Her eyes narrowed, and she heard Ben exhale loudly in something like defeat. Rey was still patting at Chewie absently, but her focus was caught at his collar, because dangling there with his tags was a ring, tied on with a piece of green ribbon she recognized from her sewing box. Frowning, she took the ring between her fingers and turned it to get a better look, and to assure herself that it was actually there and not just a trick of the light brought on by how tired she was. But no, it was real: a thin gold band, a single princess-cut diamond, simple, understated, and very, very beautiful. Suddenly she wasn’t tired at all. To the contrary, her pulse had quickened and she felt almost too awake.

“Hey, Ben?”

“Yeah?” 

Rey jumped—he was standing right over her. She’d been so honed in on her discovery, whether or not it was what she thought it was, she hadn’t even heard him walking over. She finally managed to tear her eyes from Chewie and his unusual choice in accessories to look up at Ben. 

“I think Chewie just asked me to marry him.”

“That’s pretty presumptuous of him,” he said after a beat, crouching down with her. She was still holding the ring, so he shooed her hand away gently and began untying the ribbon that was securing it. “Are you going to say yes?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Would it bother you?” She thought she had been confused earlier—that had been nothing. What was she saying? Was this happening? _What_ was happening? Ben threw her a sidelong look, still trying to get the ribbon undone. Evidently, he’d tied it on tighter than he realized. 

“Slightly.” He grimaced at Chewie, who was beginning to look bored of the proceedings and like he might be about to get up and walk away to find a new place to sleep. “Traitor. We discussed this,” Ben muttered to him, trying to get him to stop squirming. “You were supposed to stay back there until—” Chewie whined impatiently. “Just, stay, for a second.”

He finally got the ring detached, and Chewie immediately got to his feet and bounded away into the next room, leaving a cloud of long fur in his wake as he took a running leap at the couch, circled a few times, and curled up with a groan. Rey sat on the floor, looking at Ben expectantly; he was sitting now, too, looking at the ring in his hand like he was possibly not sure how it had gotten there.

“Why did he have that?” she prompted after a moment, wondering if she was missing something. 

Ben regarded her, his head tilting slightly. “It was gonna be a thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

She had to laugh. It was mostly nerves, but there was excitement, too, and curiosity. If this was what she thought it was—and what the hell else could it be?—it wasn’t exactly surprising. They’d talked about this a few times, in broad, hypothetical strokes. So it wasn’t a complete shock. But she also hadn’t been expecting it _now_ , so soon, when the foremost things on her mind for at least the last month had been moving and school. Unless she was just completely misinterpreting this, which she couldn’t be. It would be awfully awkward if she was. She’d be embarrassed and disappointed, which seemed to indicate that she _wanted_ it to be what she thought.

At least the nervous laughter was catching and kept her from feeling so at a loss. Ben chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t even know at this point. I think I formulated about half a plan and figured I’d wing the rest.”

That sounded pretty much like typical Ben. Rey smiled and folded her hands in her lap, not sure exactly what to say to that. They were sitting on the kitchen floor. He was holding a ring and, despite how strange this night had been and how out of sorts he’d seemed just minutes before, he was now remarkably composed. 

“Probably my mistake for factoring an animal into it,” he continued, his mouth curving in half a smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

He opened his hand to look at the ring sitting in his palm, then back up at her. “It does. A lot. I just meant, there’s no need for any fucking pageantry. Not when it’s so simple.” He swallowed and shifted to lean closer to her, looked her in the eye, and took both of her hands in his. They were very warm and trembling slightly, but she was pretty sure hers were, too. 

“Rey, you’re my best friend. And you are undeniably the love of my life. You’re . . . you’re everything.” She could feel the ring pressed between his fingers and hers. He was looking at her so intensely she felt like she was rooted there to the floor and to him. “Will you please marry me?”

She couldn’t help it—she laughed again, just a short burst of it, then wove her hands more tightly into his. It was much easier to work out her feelings now. She was profoundly happy, simple as that.

“Did you just use the words ‘fucking pageantry’ in a marriage proposal?”

“I did. Sorry. Ruined?”

Rey pressed her lips together, just to keep her smile from getting too wide. It was a noble but ultimately futile effort. “No, it was very you. And you did say please.”

He nodded slowly, letting their hands rest in her lap as he studied her expression. “So . . . ?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Rey said with more enthusiasm than she intended—but in hindsight, it was probably exactly the right amount. She rocked closer, shuffling toward him on her butt until their knees bumped together. “Yes. Of _course._ Yes, Ben, I’ll marry you.”

In case that might not be enough of a convincing response, she pushed herself up to throw her arms around him, overbalanced, and toppled forward into him instead. He caught her just enough to keep them both upright, then shifted his legs and pulled her into his lap, getting an arm around her waist and holding her steady. 

“So that's a yes?” he teased. 

“Yes!” 

“You might want this, in that case.”

She let him take her left hand, watched his thumb slip over her knuckles before he pushed the ring onto her finger. Rey admired the sight of it for a few seconds, grinning ear-to-ear, then glanced at him in time to catch him looking at her. His hand found hers again as he turned his attention back to the ring. 

“I didn't think you would want anything flashy.”

“It's perfect,” she assured him. It was hard not to keep looking at it. “I was just thinking how I was afraid it wouldn't fit and I'd have to wait to wear it.”

“It better fit, I had to sneak around your old room at Rose’s one morning and find one of your other rings to measure it. You almost caught me.”

Rey looked mystified, then narrowed her eyes. “Wait, is that the time I woke up because you'd knocked my lamp over and you told me you were trying to find your phone?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“But that was all the way back in . . .” She counted back, trying to recall. “June? May?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to be ready.”

She did some quick math. The first time the topic of getting married had come up was definitely over the summer, when they’d talked about whether they wanted to move in together again, and when, and what it would mean for the future. It had surprised her when he’d asked, outright, if it was something she could see for them. But at the same time it hadn't felt like it was too soon. It was sensible. However, that he’d managed to conceal his plans for that long was astounding—Ben was so not good at hiding things.

“Well, you may have to indulge me tonight.” Still huddled on the floor, her legs were starting to fall asleep. She gave him a peck on the lips, then began to crawl out of his lap to get to her feet. “Because I'm going to have a hard time not staring at it.”

“Hmm. I’ll try.” He followed her up and wiped the back of his hand dramatically over his mouth, grimaced, then grinned. “You taste like dog.”

“What!” she cried, shoving him half-heartedly in the chest as he straightened up.

“I saw you letting Chewie put his tongue all over your face, don’t act so shocked,” he continued, leaning down to put his face right in front of hers. He placed his lips to hers in a firm, deliberate way, like he was testing the veracity of his statement rather than simply kissing her, then broke away and lingered there. “Yes, you definitely do.”

“Hey I watched you let him do the exact same thing to you this morning.”

“But I wasn't in the middle of getting engaged.”

Rey snorted and turned to go, hiding a grin. “You’re a regular Prince Charming.” 

“And you just agreed to marry me.” Before she could react, he stooped and swept her right off her feet into his arms. “Which I guess makes you a princess. Once again.”

“We’ve come full circle then, haven't we?”

“In a way. Let’s leave the bullshit out this time, though.” He looked back at the kitchen and the relative mess they were leaving behind, then began carrying her out of the room, careful not to let her knock her head on the doorframe as he steered them toward the hallway. 

“Taking me somewhere?” she asked, resting her chin on his shoulder and breathing in his scent. They could clean up later. Tomorrow morning. She didn’t foresee herself returning to the kitchen tonight. Her mind was already elsewhere—the future, distant and immediate, and Ben beside her for all of it.

He nodded slowly. “It occurred to me that you’ve been waiting far too long for that shower. And I do hate to see you kept waiting for things. Unless you’d rather go somewhere else?”

“You can take me wherever you like, Ben Solo. But let’s start there.” She leaned in and kissed her way across his cheek, heart full, spirits buoyant. “And see where we end up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the exciting conclusion to this, as ever, totally gratuitous and not remotely mandatory Songs of Trash and Fire playlist over on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1).
>
>>   
> **Chapter 15 // BB-8 is Coming**  
>  Bros - Wolf Alice  
> Love Love Love - Avalanche City  
> What a Feeling - One Direction  
> The Luckiest - Ben Folds  
> You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere - Oscar Isaac  
> Shake - The Head and the Heart  
> Next in Line - WALK THE MOON  
> The Shade - Metric  
> 


End file.
